Under the Rose
by 1tT4k3sTw0
Summary: Spin off of The Best Sight in London Matthew Williams wasn't all that thrilled to take a vacation in London. To him it was just a new place to be ignored. But then he somehow captures the attention of a handsome Frenchman who may not have the purest of intentions. Franada/USUK
1. Chapter 1

Ch. 1:

"Dude, check this out!"

Matthew Williams sighed quietly as he watched his half-brother, Alfred, run around the hotel room, while he was feeling nothing but sluggish.

Alfred's mother had won an all-expenses paid trip to London, England and since she and Alfred and Matthew's father couldn't come she gave it to them. It was a nice gesture and Matthew was grateful that she had always been so kind to him when he wasn't even her son, but…he couldn't summon any happiness or excitement about this trip, and he knew exactly why.

Their father had been a bit of a womanizer in his life, until he met Alfred's mother and finally settled down and had Matthew's brother. But what he hadn't realized was that he had a Canadian son. Matthew had lived happily with his single mother until he was eleven and she got really sick…not long after that she passed away and Matthew was sent to live with a man he had never met. But he had been lucky, despite the awkwardness at first his father and step-mother quickly accepted him into the family, as did Alfred who wanted them to be the best of friends the second he realized they looked so similar, it was kind of uncanny since they only shared a father. Alfred's mother didn't look anything like Matthew's. But as the years went by Matthew learned something, next to his brother he was all but invisible. Alfred was loud and cast a large shadow and everyone was always either wanting to hang out with him or scold him and Matthew was left in that gigantic shadow. He didn't particularly blame Alfred, he was just being who he was and he never rubbed it in Matthew's face. Matthew doubted Alfred was even aware of his brother's feelings. But Matthew was actually pretty miserable, but he had no idea how to get noticed. He didn't see London being any different than home so he expected anyone they'd meet on this trip to ignore him as well, so Matthew didn't really know why they had to waste that extra ticket.

"Isn't this great, Mattie," Alfred called as he check out the bathroom, "I could swim in this tub."

"That's neat," Matthew replied quietly, placing his suitcases on the floor and sitting down on a leather chair, his stretched and yawned; his eyes rimmed with exhaustion, "Man, that was a long flight," he groaned, running a tired hand over his face, "I could sleep all summer."

"Uh-no," Alfred was suddenly at his brother's side and dragged him to his feet; "We are both going out and having some fun! No brother of mine, especially one who shared my amazing good looks, is gonna spend all summer cooped up in his room. Especially if he's in London, I want to take pictures of the Eiffel Tower!"

Matthew didn't know whether to groan in frustration or laugh, "London isn't Paris; you know that right?"

"Close enough," Alfred replied, running to pick up the sneakers Matthew had just taken off, "Put these on, grab your camera and some snacks! We are going sightseeing!"

"Alfred," Matthew couldn't help the whine that escaped his throat, "We just got off a plane, can't we relax for a bit? We have all summer to see the sights."

"And you have all summer to relax," Alfred shot back, his travel bag (that Matthew knew he stuffed with junk food) slung across his shoulder. "But first my brother and I are gonna spend some casual time together!"

Matthew wanted to argue, he really did…but when he said things like that…Alfred was one of the very few people in the world who wanted to spend time with Matthew, and he couldn't say no.

He sighed and with a nod said, "Alright, alright. One quick look down the block and then we're coming back and I'm sleeping until tomorrow afternoon."

Francis Bonnefoy let out a yelp of pain when something suddenly smacked him in the back of his head. He turned around and glared at his best friend Gilbert while fixing his long, flawless blond hair.

"What was that for," Francis demanded with a scowl, across the room his other friend, Antonio burst out laughing.

"It's for all the sighing and moaning and whining and bitching you've been doing since we got here," Gilbert replied, his red eyes narrowed in annoyance.

This bad friend trio could really not be much different in looks; Francis was a Frenchmen with long, wavy blond hair, deep blue eyes, and slight chin stubble. Gilbert was an albino, his platinum blond hair always in a mess (he never let Francis touch it). Then lastly there was Antonio, in a way the baby of the group, a Spaniard with tan skin and bright green eyes. The three had been traveling the globe for a few years now, surviving on their monthly allowance and their own resourcefulness (but mainly their allowance). These adventures were the best of Francis's life as far as he was concerned, drinking, partying, and hunting for conquests with his best friends. What more could one ask for? However…he did not see why they had to spend their summer in London, England of all places.

"Don't tell me Francypants is scared of running into one of his old victories," Antonio said teasingly, walking over to stand with Gilbert who was smirking as well.

Francis glared at them, yes the last time he was in London he had a fling with an uptight Brit named Arthur Kirkland, however their relationship only lasted a year before Francis got bored like he always did and cut the relationship off. That was years ago and he could still feel the scratches that rejected psycho had given him.

"It's a big city," Francis replied dryly, "I doubt I'll run into him, and even if I did what would he do? No, I just find this place boring and can think of better places to spend the summer." He looked away and breathed a dreamy sigh, "Like my beloved homeland."

"Well there's nothing we can do now," Gilbert replied, "We used up this month's allowance on the plan ride over here."

"How about this, Francis," Antonio spoke up, "You spend the month here without complaining and come July's allowance we'll take a plan to France."

"Well," Francis let out an overdramatic sigh, "I suppose that's better than spending the entire summer here."

"Good, now shut up and come on," Gilbert headed to the door, "All this talk has gotten me thirsty."

Francis couldn't help a smile as he followed his friends out, surely someone as attractive as him could find some source of entertainment for the month.


	2. Chapter 2

Ch. 2:

Matthew looked around, slightly panicked, trying to find a sign or landmark that would help him get back to the hotel.

After an hour of shuffling his feet at Hyde Park Alfred finally let him go on home without him, Matthew was grateful about it…until he realized he had no idea where the hotel was.

Letting out a defeated sigh he sat down on a bench and put his head in his hands. He really didn't need this right now; he was already in a sour mood. Matthew felt a slight lump rise in his throat but he ignored it. He just needed to sit and relax until he could think clearly.

He could ask someone for directions, yet a stubborn part of him wanted someone to notice him just once in his life and ask him what was wrong. But he knew how pointless that was. He was all but invisible. He'd just have to suck it up and go force someone to notice him and give him directions. But Matthew didn't move; only gritted his teeth together, feeling bitter, miserable, and empty.

"Those bastards," Francis sighed, wandering down the street, he was pretty sure he was close to Hyde Park.

After Francis refused to drink from the fifth bar they found Gilbert and Antonio had abandoned him, yelling about how he was ruining their trip. Well excuse him if he liked good wine and not the artificial colored swamp water the British passed off as wine. He supposed he could head back to the apartment the three were calling home for the time being. Gilbert might still have a bottle of his grandfather's wine left.

With the prospect of a drinkable liquid firmly in his mind Francis headed off, ignoring the passing locals, even the ones who looked at him with obvious interest. Francis highly doubted he would find someone worth the time here, his year with Arthur had left him a bit picky and he wasn't ready to try his luck on anymore Brits. No, he'd just wait until they went to Paris and then he'd-

Francis stopped dead in his tracks, noticing on the other side of the street a lone figure sitting on a bench. Francis tilted his head slightly to the side, trying to figure out what had caught his attention about the stranger.

He had nice hair, not as nice as Francis's but still, he looked to be healthy, slender and probably a bit taller than him, though Francis never really minded height. Perhaps…perhaps it was because this young man had his face buried in his hands, looking so depressed and lonely, like he didn't have a friend in the world. Then quite suddenly Francis realized he couldn't walk away, he had to talk to this stranger; he had to see his face up close. Bewildered by this sudden urge he looked around and noticed a vender selling roses. Perfect.

Matthew was still collecting the will power to stand up and continue his hunt when he heard someone clear their throat.

Sounding rather close Matthew lifted his head up in curiosity, only to see a rose. Shocked he stared at the scarlet flower for a moment before looking at the hand that held it, it looked smooth and soft. He eyes then traveled up to the arm, shoulder, then finally reaching the most beautiful face he had ever seen.

Matthew felt his breath catch as his looked into those deep, blue eyes, eyes that looked right back at him, seeing him, taking him in.

The man smiled and Matthew felt butterflies in his stomach.

"Forgive me but it looked to me like you could use a rose," the man explained and Matthew shivered as the strong French accent reached his ears.

"O-oh," Matthew mumbled, he desperately tried to think of something to say but his mind had gone blank. He was still trying to figure out why this gorgeous man would give him of all people a rose. And he was trying to figure out if he should take it or not.

The beautiful stranger's eyes had widened slightly at Matthew's voice, he seemed to perk up considerably, "You're not British." It wasn't a question.

"Neither are you," Matthew said then bit his tongue, hoping he hadn't sounded rude or accusing.

But the man simply laughed, and it was such a nice laugh to, it was rich and flowed over Matthew like syrup.

"That I am not, thank heavens," the man replied, he lifted his chin proudly, "I am a French man. My name is Francis Bonnefoy."

"P-pleased to meet you," Matthew replied quietly, "My name is Matthew."

"Mathieu," Francis repeated in his strong accent, as if he tasting the word, "Mathieu."

Matthew could only nod mutely; unable to belief his average everyday name could sound so exotic and exciting on this man's tongue.

"Well, Mathieu, I don't want to sound pushy but would you be so kind as to take this rose," Francis asked, "I feel kind of silly just holding it when it would look so much better in your hand."

Matthew swallowed, his face heating up, "Oh, well…I'd like to, but I don't know, I just met you. My brother wouldn't want me to accept gifts from strangers."

"Strangers," Francis playfully scoffed, "We aren't strangers, we know each other names and that neither of us is from this depressing little country." Francis looked around with an almost pitying look before turning back to Matthew. Matthew felt a jolt of excitement every time the man locked eyes with him.

"However if it is that important to you, we'll keep this sub rosa," Francis winked.

"Sub rosa," Matthew echoed with a question in his voice. He hoped that wasn't a super popular saying he hadn't heard about, he didn't want to sound like an antisocial homebody (even if he kind of was one).

"Its roman 'under the rose'," Francis explained with a flourish, "Which means to keep a secret, this rose will be our little secret."

He then bowed dramatically and once again offered Matthew the rose, this time Matthew took it. He smiled softly as he looked down at it, observing the soft red petals, it was beautiful, and possibly one of the nicest things anyone had ever given him.

But wait… he thought to himself; his smile disappearing, aren't you supposed to give red roses to the one you love?

Matthew tensed up as Francis sat down next to him, he looked at ease and relaxed but suddenly Matthew's heart was pounding harder than before and he was scared he'd pass out. Why did Francis give him a rose? He just met him so it had nothing to do with love. Did he want something from Matthew? By accepting the rose did Matthew agree to something?

Francis cast a sideways look at Matthew, still smiling pleasantly, but then furrowed his brow with concern, "Something wrong?" he asked, turning his face to Matthew. "You look pale."

"Do-do I," Matthew stammered, starting to shake, "I hadn't noticed." He cleared his throat, trying to calm down, "Can I ask…why would you give me this rose?"

"Oh, well," Francis's looked a little embarrassed and even a little confused, "It's just…I saw you sitting there and you looked…like you needed the rose."

Francis smiled again, all embarrassment and confusion vanishing like magic, he cocked an eyebrow at Matthew, "Do you not like roses, Mathieu?"

"Oh, it's not that," Matthew said quickly, "I like roses, and I really do appreciate it. It's just…this is usually a Valentine's Day gift for…for your lover or something." Matthew refused to look up from the rose, feeling his face burning as he blushed. He did not just say that, he bet Francis was insulted and would leave now, and Matthew didn't want either of those things to happen.

"So," Francis said simply, like it wasn't that big of a deal.

Matthew looked up at him; he had to explain it further? "So…I'm wondering why you would give me a rose, one of the biggest symbols of love in the world, when we just met."

Francis smiled and rested his chin in his hand, "Maybe I'm saying I fell in love with you the moment I laid eyes on you."

Matthew's jaw dropped in horror and he felt his face getting redder when Francis chuckled, "It was a joke, mon ami. But I'm honestly a little sad that my being in love with you would frighten you so much."

"It-it's not that," Matthew said, "I mean- I wouldn't be insulted or anything just…" the words died on his tongue as he come to the realization he had no idea how to talk to this man. "Just…"

Francis tilted his head slightly, watching Matthew under thick lashes, "Just?"

"People don't usually notice me," he replied quietly, feeling pathetic but not knowing what else to say.

To his surprise Francis scoffed in disbelief, "I highly doubt that."

Matthew turned to him, staring at him in bewilderment before replying a bit defensively, "But it's the truth! Nobody notices me!"

"I noticed you," Francis said calmly, staring into Matthew's eyes with an unreadable expression, "Am I nobody?"

Matthew blushed and looked back at the rose, "No…that's not what I meant. I…I'm sorry."

He risked a glance at Francis and saw that the Frenchman was smiling softly, "There really is no need to be so distraught mon cher. I had only been joking; apparently I'm not as funny as I had thought."

"No, your jokes are fine," Matthew assured, "I'm just not a big laugher."

Francis cast him a playful look, "Then I'll just have to remedy that."

Matthew blinked, "Eh?"

"My dearest Matthew I hereby solemnly vow that I will make you laugh. A real laugh too."

"Eh?"

"Yes, but tragically it is getting late and I must be on my way," he stood up gracefully, "Those poor bastards are probably waist deep in alcohol by now."

Matthew stood up and gave him a questioning look.

Francis smiled, "Oh, don't worry. They'll be fine, now then." Francis once again surprised Matthew by extending his arm out to him, "May I escort you home?"

"Uh, yes, actually, I'm lost." Matthew told Francis what his hotel was called and to his immediate relief the blond man nodded, "I know that place. I can take you there."

"T-thank you so much," Matthew stammered gratefully. He then looked down at Francis's still offered arm, hesitantly he took it and lightning bolts seemed to shoot from his arm where he touched Francis. The man was warm.

As Francis led Matthew to the hotel he explained to Matthew that he and his two friends Gilbert and Antonio were stopping here for the month during their glorious worldly travels. Matthew thought the whole thing sounded incredibly exciting and adventurous and he found himself envious of anyone who was able to spend so much time with Francis… But a question still haunted his thoughts, one Francis had never actually answered.

"Why are you talking to me," he asked once Francis had finished his tale of the time Gilbert got into a drinking competition with a giant Russian man.

Francis blinked at him, looking confused, "Hmm?"

"How did you even notice me," Matthew wondered, after all of these exciting things Francis had seen and done… How had his gaze not slipped past him like everyone else?

Francis smile was slow and seductive as it slid across his face, his eyes darkening. He gripped Matthew's arm tighter, making the Canadian shiver, as he pulled himself closer to Matthew, pressing his body against him.

"I'm attracted to things that catch my interest," Francis breathed, far too close to Matthew's face and he nearly had a heart attack when he saw Francis's eyes trail down to his lips, "And let's just say…you have completely caught my interest."


	3. Chapter 3

Ch. 3:

Matthew stared at the rose Francis had given him; it was now in a slim vase he had found and sitting on the coffee table. As Matthew stared at the scarlet flower he couldn't help the smile on his face, the fluttering in his stomach, as he recalled his conversation with Francis:

Matthew couldn't breathe as Francis pressed against him, his body warm and flush against him. Francis gave Matthew a sexy smile, "And let's just say… you have completely caught my interest."

Then before Matthew could fully register what he was doing Francis trailed his lips across Matthew's cheek in what was possibly the hottest peck on the cheek in history. Then with a wink and smile he had walked off, leaving Matthew a pile of cinders on the sidewalk.

Matthew couldn't help a small squeal escaping at the memory, he might have been acting like a little junior high school girl but he didn't care! The sexiest person in all of existence was interested in him! Matthew hadn't realized how much he had wanted something like that to happen until now. He hugged his stuffed bear, Kumajirou, to him. This vacation was looking promising after all.

"Well, someone looks less bitchy," Gilbert remarked as he and a giggling Antonio entered the apartment.

Gilbert's face was flushed but next to the swaying Antonio he either a) didn't drink that much or the more likely, b) could hold his liquor better. If you considered the British version of liquor alcohol, which Francis did not and never would.

But he smiled at his friends, in too good of a mood to be bothered by such things, "I am in a much better mood, thank you for asking."

"Really? Oh, Francis I'm so happy for you," Antonio gushed and rushed over to hug Francis, but halfway there he tripped on his own feet and face-planted onto the floor.

"Just stay down there, Toni," Gilbert advised before walking over the Spaniard and sitting on the arm of Francis's chair. "So, what has got you all a twitter?"

Francis grinned up at his friend, "After you bastards heartlessly abandoned me I found the cutest thing one could ever find in London."

Gilbert cocked a silver eyebrow, "Oh? Caught another Brit, apparently you didn't learn your lesson the first time."

"Don't sleep with another one, Francis," Antonio warned from where he lay sprawled on the floor, "That last one nearly clawed your eyes out."

"Thank you for that reminder," Francis said sarcastically, "But no, it's not a Brit." He smiled brightly, "It's a Canadian."

"Well, that is different," Gilbert agreed, "You never bagged one of those before."

Francis chuckled and crossed his legs, "Well I shall do just that very soon. You should see this little dove, he's absolutely adorable."

"What type is he," Gilbert asked, resting his head in his hand, "I need details, and go slowly."

"He's the naïve, innocent type," Francis began, "Sweet and shy, believing whatever you say if you put a smile to it."

"Hmm, that doesn't sound like a challenge to me," Gilbert said, "I thought you enjoyed the thrill of the hunt?"

"I do," Francis agreed, "But not nearly as much as the thrill of the bed."

Francis smiled at his friend, "Trust me, that's where the fun will be. The little thing is so obviously a virgin. It'll be fun to teach him a few things."

"And what's the best part about this little Canadian," Gilbert asked in a tone that said he already knew the answer and Francis better as well.

With a helpless sigh and a roll of his eyes Francis recited Gilbert's mantra, "It's just fun. I'm going to show that little Canadian the best time of his life and then we three will run off to the next adventure."

Gilbert grinned, "Quite right."

Antonio tried sitting up, "Fantastico!"

Gilbert pushed Antonio back on the floor while Francis laughed; yes this was how his friends lived and how they would continue living. No attachments to anything but themselves and their families, there would be no committed relationships, no falling in love. Just the thrill of the hunt and the bed, and that's how Francis liked it.


	4. Chapter 4

Ch. 4:

The next morning Alfred pushed Matthew off his bed, when the shocked Canadian tried to strangle him Alfred simply stated he wanted to go see the London Tooth.

"The London what," Matthew demanded, wondering what on earth his brother was talking about now.

"You know, the London Tooth. That wicked Ferris wheel," Alfred explained.

Matthew groaned as he ran a hand over his face, "It's called the London Eye, Alfred. And what does seeing that have to do with pushing me off the bed?"

Alfred smiled, "This is our first time waking up at this fancy hotel and I wanted to celebrate by giving you the old wakeup call we had as kids."

Ah, yes, that. Not too long after Matthew had joined the Jones family his disturbingly strong brother had decided pushing Matthew off his bed every morning would be a fun family tradition. He had stopped when they turned fifteen and Matthew could push back.

"Fine," he said when he realized Alfred was waiting for a yea or nay. "Let me get ready then we can go."

Alfred whooped with excitement and raced to his room to get ready.

Once both boys were ready they headed out, all the while Matthew tried to convince his brother that it was the London Eye, not the London tooth. But leave it to his brother to believe there was no difference.

But once they reached their destination even Matthew couldn't hold back a gasp of awe at the impressive sight. His brother pulled out his camera and started to take pictures, Matthew just smiling beside him.

As they walked toward the London Eye Matthew surveyed the crowd around them, looking at the families as they too took pictures and were waiting for a ride on the famous London sight. It was then he spotted a flash of blond hair.

Matthew stopped dead in his tracks and used his tall height to his advantage to look over the bystanders' heads, a smile spread across his face as he recognized a gorgeous head of hair.

"Hey, Mattie," Alfred's voice brought Matthew back to the present; his brother had stopped and was staring back at him. "Aren't you coming?"

"Oh, um," actually the London Eye was now the farthest thing from his mind. "I-I think I'll join you later." Then before his brother could protest he started slipping his way through the crowd, his eyes latched onto a beautiful Frenchman.

Francis looked up at the giant Ferris wheel, trying not to be too impressed.

Beside him Gilbert whistled and Antonio mimicked holding a camera and taking a picture of the sight.

"I wonder what would happen if that thing got loose and just started rolling," Gilbert mused aloud. Francis and Antonio looked at him with fear.

"I didn't say I was going to kick it and make it roll down the hill," Gilbert said with grudging annoyance. "I know I nearly broke that carnival Ferris wheel that one time but I was drunk and it was a long time ago."

Antonio shuddered and waved his hands, "Don't even mention that day."

"We agreed to never speak of it," Francis agreed, "Unless Toni and I can start bringing up that vixen that nearly dislocated your jaw."

Gilbert whirled around to fix Francis with a hard glare and the Frenchman smiled innocently, it had been years but Gilbert would never get over the day a young woman took him to the ground with one blow.

"What are we going to do after this," Antonio asked, rubbing his belly, "Please tell me the answer is eating."

Francis snorted, "In England? Please, I'd rather eat dog food from France then eat their "finest" cuisine."

"And there's the bitching," Gilbert huffed, "I thought you got over your hate for the Crown."

"I shall never get over that," Francis replied bluntly.

"Okay, rephrase, I thought you had a sexy conquest to get into…literally."

Francis cocked an eyebrow as Gilbert smiled at his own joke; bless him for he wasn't the sharpest tool in the shed. But he was right, without that little Canadian rose Francis was miserable.

Suddenly a familiar voice called his name; Francis jumped suddenly bracing himself to be tackled by a thick-browed maniac. But then he realized the voice wasn't British. A slow smile curved his lip as he turned to see who had called him; speak of the devil.

Matthew looked so out of place with his white hoodie that was adorned with a red maple leaf, but damn it all if he wasn't the cutest thing Francis had ever seen. The young man wore a small nervous smile, looking like he was waiting for permission to come any closer.

Francis flashed his most winning grin and he could tell the exact second Matthew's legs turned to jelly. "Mathieu, bonjour! I was just thinking about you, come here and meet my friends."

Matthew walked over and nodded to Gilbert and Antonio who surveyed him, "P-pleased to meet you."

"Igual que aquí," Antonio replied, taking Matthew's hands and shaking them, "That means 'same here' in case you didn't know. Francis was right you are really cute."

Matthew blushed and Francis hid his smirk, Antonio was, as always, his star wing man.

But glancing at Gilbert who only gave Matthew a nod, Francis noticed the albino was looking Matthew up and down like he was his next meal.

Catching Gilbert's eye Francis gave him a warning glare that clearly said 'I saw him first.' Gilbert only smiled and chuckled.

"Are you here to ride the London Eye," Matthew asked, turning to Francis.

"Yes, but I'd welcome a way out of it." Francis suddenly grasped Matthew's warm hands, the Canadian went even redder. "Want to come with me? There's something I want to show you."

"Oh-um…B-But what about your friends," Matthew stammered and Francis knew Matthew's mind had gone exactly where he wanted it to.

"You two don't mind if we don't go, do you," Francis asked.

Antonio smiled and gave a thumbs-up, "Of course not, you two kids have fun."

The Spaniard headed onward, Gilbert lagging behind. He winked at them, "But if you don't have fun, you know where we are."

Francis narrowed his eyes at his friend's retreating back; Gilbert could at least wait his turn.

"They seem nice," Matthew mused kindly.

"Nice," Francis echoed in disbelief before turning his attention back to Matthew with a sensual smile, "Shall we go?"

"Oh, sure," the boy still looked uncomfortable but didn't resist when Francis linked their arms together, "But I can't stay out too late, I kind of just ran away from my brother and if I stay out too late he'll start freaking out."

"Why did you run away from him," Francis asked with his head tilted, asking questions was a good way to warm them up, and to find useful information about your conquest.

"W-well I…" Matthew kept his eyes on the ground, "I saw you… and I just….yeah."

Francis smiled, "Consider me flattered." Perhaps this conquest would be a little too easy.

Matthew's eyes lit up like violet stars as he saw Francis's 'surprise', though Francis hoped he was just a little disappointed it wasn't what he had thought it was.

"An ice skating rink," Matthew breathed, looking at the building with rapture, "How'd you find it?"

"Well I just kind of stumbled upon it after I ran into you yesterday," Francis explained, "I thought it might remind you of your homeland." And by Matthew's expression Francis's guess was right on the money.

"It does," Matthew breathed, "I haven't seen an ice skating rink since…" Matthew stopped, swallowing and Francis wondered what he was about to say.

"Can we go in," he asked and Francis chuckled, he really was adorable.

"I didn't bring you here just to look at it."

Looking like an excited child Matthew took Francis's hand and all but ran into the building. Francis did not realize that Matthew had expected him to skate as well.

"I'd rather not," Francis said as Matthew stood on the ice, balancing perfectly like it hadn't been years since he skated.

"Why not," Matthew asked, smiling in a teasing way, he was a completely different person on the ice it would seem.

"Because I don't like it when gravity turns against me," Francis replied, eyeing the ice warily, "And something tells me standing on slippery ice will not help that problem."

Matthew laughed, "Please try it, just for a little bit." His eyes twinkled and Francis suddenly found himself caving.

Well, people are more likely to sleep with you if you do what they say, he mused to himself as he pulled the unflattering skates on.

He held onto the railing for balance, still not willing to step onto the ice, meanwhile Matthew had started doing spins and figure eights while Francis had gotten ready. For a moment the Frenchman wondered if the little Canadian was mocking him.

Matthew skated back to Francis and extended his hand, "It's no fun over there."

Francis took the boy's hand and allowed himself to be pulled onto the ice, immediately he starting sliding and slipping. "Not fun, not fun," Francis repeated over and over, his face would've hit the ice if Matthew hadn't caught him.

Great, just great, he brought the Canadian here to warm him up and he was going to spend his time looking like a complete ass.

"Are you okay," Matthew asked, looking genuinely worried.

Francis smiled reassuringly even though he didn't feel okay, "I'm fine, but I told you I'm not good at it."

Matthew smiled as he helped Francis stand up, "You just need to practice that's all, when I was little I slipped and fell so many times I lost count."

Francis laughed lightly, "I bet you were the cutest little kid." He could imagine a shy, quiet little boy who never let his mother's hand go.

Matthew blushed and grinned, "Thanks, I'm sure you were too, a cute kid that is."

"Oh no," Francis replied as he tried to take a step in these hazardous shoes, "I was an absolute spoiled rich kid, a total brat."

Matthew laughed, looking even more at ease, "I'm sure you weren't that bad."

"If you go and say that to my grandmother I am pretty positive she'd slap you," Francis said, smirking. But he realized Matthew was giving him a sad look.

"What's wrong," Francis asked, stopping.

He asked quietly, "Why were you raised by your grandmother? What about your parents?"

"Oh, they were too busy," Francis replied easily, "They owned the finest restaurant in Paris I'll have you know. I only got to see them in the morning and late at night."

Some may say it was a sad childhood but Francis hadn't really mind, his grandmother was the one who taught him how to wiggle his way into a lady's heart. How to get into her bed Francis had to find out on his own.

"Oh," Matthew said quietly, "I see." He still looked depressed.

Not liking how this was going Francis opened his mouth to speak, but then gravity decided to try and push him down and with a yelp he wrapped his arms around Matthew's neck before he fell.

"Sorry," Francis apologized, and then realizing he was pressed against Matthew who had his hands on his waist he decided…maybe he wasn't so sorry.

"Its fine," Matthew smiled tightly, his face was flushed from having Francis so close their noses nearly touched, but the Frenchman could still detect a hint of sadness in Matthew's eyes.

He cocked his head to the side, "Did I do something wrong?"

Matthew blinked, "Hmm?"

Francis made it back onto his feet but keep his arms around Matthew's neck, the boy was so tall, "It's just, you suddenly looked so sad when I mention my grandmother."

"Oh. I-I'm sorry, it's nothing, I'm fine." The boy smiled but it still seemed forced,

Francis went to pressure him to tell him the truth when he recalled the last time he had allowed a fling to get deep. And he had nearly had his eyes scratched out. Oh no, I will be having none of that again, thank you.

The two spent what seemed an hour skating, well, Matthew skated, Francis just tried not to fall any more than was necessary, and sadly…he fell a lot.

It got to where he was in a bad mood because he knew someone who made an ass of himself this much was not getting exactly that anytime soon.

"Can we stop yet," Francis all but begged. He was hugging the railing and breathing hard while Matthew still skated around like he had never been off the ice.

"But you've already gotten so much better," Matthew assured, coming to stop by him. Just then an eight year old skated past and waved at Francis, "Hi Mr. Clumsy guy."

Francis waited until she had skated away before looking at Matthew, "No, I haven't."

"Just one more song," Matthew urged, clasping his hands together and looking at him with big violet eyes.

Francis smiled tiredly, reminding himself why he was doing this, "Okay, one more song."

The ice skating rink had been playing music all day, but most of it was fast-paced pop songs, not necessarily bad, but it wasn't Francis's style. However, to his surprise, the next song to play was a slow song. He watched with rising interest as the younger kids skated off the ice, while the teenagers and adults paired off.

He turned back to Matthew to see the boy was also watching the skating couples, a faint flush to his cheeks and a twinkle in his eye.

An idea struck Francis and he smiled. Clearing his throat to get the Canadian's attention he slowly extended his hand, "Mathieu, may I have this dance?"

The boy's cheeks flushed scarlet and a small smile curved his lip, "A-Are you sure? You might fall."

"Then I'll have you to catch me," Francis winked.

Matthew chuckled and took Francis's hand, their fingers intertwined and Matthew pulled Francis to his side. Remembering he couldn't stand on ice, let alone dance, Francis wrapped his arm tightly around Matthew's waist. Matthew brought his own hand to Francis's hip, his face red and looking like he expected Francis to pull away, the Frenchman gave Matthew's waist a tight squeeze. Smiling he spoke, "Don't look so terrified, I won't bite."

Matthew chuckled nervously, "Sorry." He started skating as smooth as possible when he was pretty much dragging Francis. "It's just… I've never danced with anyone."

"What, never," Francis looked at him with surprise. When he shook his head Francis prompted, "Not even on an actual dance floor?"

"Never," Matthew replied, looking away in embarrassment, "No one's ever wanted to dance with me before."

"Clearly they were either blind or had terrible taste," Francis replied, genuinely surprised that no one had ever showed this adorable Canadian interest before.

Matthew smiled sweetly, "Thanks, but its okay I'm used to it."

"It would certainly explain you're adorable shyness," Francis remarked with a half-grin.

Matthew turned his eyes to his feet but Francis could see that his happy little smile was still in place, he was warming himself up to the Canadian.

As the slow song drew to a close Francis had an idea, "Spin me, Mathieu."

The boy blinked at him, "Huh?"

"Spin me," Francis repeated, "I can handle it."

Matthew shrugged his eyes doubtful, "If you say so."

He pushed Francis away to twirl him under his arm, and for just a moment Francis was actually skating, but then his left foot lost balance, and with Matthew still holding his hand they both fell to the ice in a yelping tangle of arms and legs.

"I'm so sorry, Francis, are you okay," Matthew asked in panicked concern, looking down at Francis.

The Frenchman blinked; slightly dizzy from the fall, then noticing Matthew's face and the position they were in he burst out laughing.

The Canadian looked at him with surprised concern, "W-what's so funny?"

"Nothing it's just-" Francis rubbed Matthew's legs with his own, reminding the boy they were tangled together, "If I must fall this is the way to do it."

Matthew blushed, "Y-yeah…I guess so."

Francis continued to laugh and after a moment Matthew joined him, lying on his back and laughing up at the ceiling. Francis couldn't help but think of how nice Matthew's laugh was.

They finally pulled themselves together when a skater came over to ask them if they were okay.

"I guess we better go now," Matthew decided, making it look easy as he got back onto his feet. Francis however, was not even willing to try at this point.

"Need some help," Matthew asked, a teasing smile playing on his lips, he had really nice lips.

Francis held his hand up to him, "Yes please."

Matthew hauled Francis to his feet, but instead of letting Francis walk off the ice he lifted the Frenchman onto his back. Francis blinked in surprise, shocked by how strong the quiet boy was, he wrapped his arms around Matthew's neck and chuckled, "What's this for?"

"Can't have you falling down again," Matthew said still skating easily with Francis's on his back. "I already feel bad how many times you got hurt because of me."

"This skating rink was my idea," Francis reminded him, "Besides-" he nuzzled Matthew's neck, "You're worth it." He grinned when Matthew shuddered.

But all too quickly they reached the end of the rink and Matthew placed him down. Francis was grateful to get those God awful skates off his shoes and be able to walk without the fear of falling.

"Thank you," Matthew said as they left the rink, he was smiling warmly, his eyes sparkling like diamonds, "I really appreciate it, I haven't had this much fun since…well, for a long time."

Francis grinned at him, "You're most welcome, Mathieu, I'm glad you enjoyed yourself. However I can't but feel a favor is in order."

"Oh," Matthew asked, stopping and looking slightly worried, "What kind of favor?"

Francis waited for a delicious second before answering, "A dinner favor of course. Would you care to join me for dinner tonight?"

"Oh, oh sure," Matthew smiled, "Where are we going?"

Francis sighed, "I can't say, I'd like to take you to a place with good food, but we're in London…"

"Well…I can cook," Matthew said, "How about you come to the hotel I'm staying at? You can meet my brother and I can cook you something nice."

Francis placed his hand over his heart, "You'd do that for me?"

"Of course," Matthew replied immediately, then as if that was a weird thing to say he quickly added, "I m-mean, you've been so nice to me. It's the least I could do."

Francis squeezed Matthew's shoulder, "You're so sweet, I thought I'd starve during this trip." He trailed his fingers down Matthew's arm to his fingers were he laced them together. Matthew smiled, his face flushed.

"I-I should be getting back then," Matthew said, "There's so much to do, please come around eight." With obvious reluctance the Canadian pulled away and headed down the street, Francis waved bye.

"By the way," Francis called, making Matthew stop, "I did it."

Matthew furrowed his brow, "Did what?"

Francis grinned, "I made you laugh a real laugh."

The Canadian blushed then laughed again, "Yes, I guess you did."

It wasn't until Matthew was completely out of sight that Francis realized he probably would've gotten away with a kiss.


	5. Chapter 5

Ch. 5:

The rest of the day Matthew started fixing up the one French recipe he knew. All the while hoping that Francis would like it, wondering if Francis's parents served it at their restaurant, basically is something involved Francis, Matthew was thinking about it.

He also wondered if he should go ahead and tell his brother, who was eating chips while watching Doctor Who, that they would be having a dinner guest.

But honestly his brother looked to be in a world of his own as he mindlessly ate; his eyes had a faraway look in them Matthew had never seen before. He had told Matthew he had fun at the London Eye, but that had been it. No detail, no showing him the pictures he took, Alfred was almost like a completely different person.

Matthew sat down next to his brother and Alfred gave him a funny look, Matthew felt immediately offended, "What?"

"What do you mean 'what'," his brother asked, giving him a confused look.

"You just looked at me like you didn't want to sit with me," Matthew replied, "As your brother I do believe sitting with you is my birth right."

"That wasn't why I was looking at you," Alfred assured with a laugh then squinted at his brother, "You just seem so different since we arrived, I can't put my finger on it."

Matthew blinked, weird; he had just been thinking the same thing. "So do you."

Alfred smiled and looked down at the bag in his lap, his eyes going far away again, "Do I?"

They spent a few minutes watching TV and Matthew decided he needed to figure out how to tell his brother Francis was coming over. Though he wasn't sure why he couldn't just go and say it. This…this wasn't just a dinner guest.

"And they say our entertainment is weird," he laughed softly, trying to warm up his brother. But Alfred didn't reply, his eyes were still unfocused, he seemed to be in his own little world.

Deciding enough was enough, Matthew tapped his arm, making his brother jump, "What?"

"You've had that weird look in your eyes for a while now," Matthew informed, "Is something wrong?"

"No," Alfred said quickly, and then stopped, "Well… Maybe there is, I don't know."

"Do you want to talk about it," Matthew asked, suddenly concerned, his brother had never looked so uncertain before.

But Alfred shook his head, "No, but I think I do need some fresh air."

Matthew watched his brother head to the door, "Do you want me to come with you?" His brother was more important than the once in a life time opportunity to have dinner with a handsome Frenchman.

"Nah, I might be awhile, don't wait up for me." Then he was gone.

Matthew sat there, blinking; well he supposed Alfred suddenly running off was easier than introducing his brother to Francis. Though he wasn't sure why, and he hoped his brother hadn't gone to do something reckless.

A few minutes later there was a knock on the door and Matthew smiled as he opened to see Francis, he was dressed much nicer than Matthew who still wore his clothes from earlier, "Bonjour."

He blushed, "Oh, sorry. I-I'll go change."

"No need," Francis assured with a laugh, holding Matthew's elbow to stop him, "I like your hoodie, besides I want you to wear what's comfortable as I did."

Matthew then noticed the bottle in Francis's hand, he pointed at it, "What's that?"

"Ah, yes," Francis lifted the bottle with a bright smile, "This, my dear Mathieu, is the world famous Beilschmidt wine, surely you've heard of it."

"Uh," Matthew hesitated, "I've never drank wine before. But I think my dad drinks this Vargas wine…"

Matthew trailed off when Francis started to laugh, "Oh, mon cher, never mention that name to Gilbert."

"What, Vargas?"

"Oui, you see Gilbert's family owns the Beilschmidt wine and they have had a very long rivalry with the Vargas wine. Gilbert's grandfather knows the owner of Vargas very well and can't stand him."

"I see," Matthew replied, "Well, I'm sure Gilbert's wine tastes better."

"That it does," Francis replied, "And you're going to taste it for yourself and see."

Matthew quickly waved his hands, "B-but I'm only nineteen!" The words made him wonder how old Francis was, exactly. He could've been in his thirties for all Matthew knew.

"And I'm twenty seven," Francis replied with a flourish, "And yet, here we are."

"What I mean is, I'm underage," Matthew explained.

But Francis simply handed Matthew the bottle, "One is never too young nor too old for wine, besides I can't drink that entire thing by myself."

"O-okay," Matthew conceded, wondering if he could talk himself out of it later, "Well, if you're hungry I already made dinner."

Francis grinned, "When you do something you waste no time, non?"

Matthew led Francis into the kitchen where the Canadian revealed he had made Vanilla Crème Brûlée. Francis looked delighted at the food and to Matthew's great joy and relief he proclaimed it delicious.

"You know what you should do," Francis said as they ate and talk.

"What," Matthew asked, paying more attention to Francis than his meal.

"You should move to Paris and work at my parents' restaurant. Once they taste your food they'll be hooked."

Matthew chuckled, his cheeks warm with pleasure, "I'll think about it."

After talking about things they enjoyed and Matthew showing off his French, Francis finally pressured the boy into trying Beilschmidt wine. Matthew had been positive he'd only take one sip, but the moment that sweet, tangy, liquid touched his tongue he was a goner. Together they easily emptied half of the bottle.

"You have to get more of this," Matthew slightly slurred, finishing his glass, "It tastes amazing."

"I told you so," Francis replied with slight smugness, his cheeks red. "Unfortunately that was the last bottle we brought and I had to bend over backwards to convince Gilbert to give it to me."

Matthew pouted, "Oh, that's too bad."

"But," Francis continued with a wink, "I'll be sure to order more for you."

Matthew smiled sincerely, "You're so nice, Francis."

The Frenchman blinked, apparently thrown off by Matthew's sudden compliment, "It's no problem."

Matthew had left the TV on in the living room and hadn't really noticed the background noise until Francis suddenly sat up straighter and turned to look at the TV, a song was playing. It was a pretty melody and Matthew smiled at the sweet voice that sang.

"I love this song," Francis smiled; then reached over the table to grab Matthew's hand, "Come dance with me, I want to show you how good I am when I'm dancing on solid ground."

"S-Sure," Matthew was probably smiling like an idiot as Francis pulled him up and wrapped an arm around his waist and wrapped their fingers together. He brought Matthew as close as possible and the boy tried to calm the blush that raged on his cheeks, off the ice Francis oozed confidence, and dancing was no exception.

Together they waltzed through the room, Francis started singing and Matthew smiled, his voice was nice and just like the first time he heard him spoke, it sent a delicious shiver down his spine.

"What do you think," Francis asked, as they spun around, "Quite different from the klutz you danced with on the ice, hmm?"

"You really are still upset about that, huh," Matthew couldn't help but chuckle, "For what it's worth I liked when you were clumsy."

Francis cocked a brow, "How come?"

Matthew shrugged helplessly, "Well, it made me feel less like an antisocial loser around you."

"Don't say that," Francis scolded, "You're not either of those things!"

Matthew smiled softly, the way Francis said it, it sounded like such an obvious fact, "Still that's kind of how I see myself."

"Well, you need to stop," Francis said firmly, then smiled, "You wouldn't have caught my interest if you were an antisocial loser."

His words warmed Matthew and feeling temporarily bold he leaned forward and rested his head against Francis's shoulder, the French man kept dancing as if he hadn't even noticed. Matthew smiled and took a deep breath, inhaling Francis's delicious scent, he smelled like vanilla and wine.

They spent a few minutes like this, swaying together, even when the song had long ended. Matthew felt his eyes flutter, it felt so nice and natural like this, enveloped in Francis's warm arms, breathing in his scent…

His thoughts were cut short when Francis suddenly moved his hand from his waist to the line of jeans, Matthew nearly yelped as he felt Francis's fingers slide into the fabric to touch his bare hip.

"F-Francis," Matthew whispered, starting to sweat as the hand gradually moved lower.

"Ssh," Francis soothed, "It's fine, mon cher." His voice had dropped an octave and it did nothing to stop the burning of Matthew's flesh.

He gasped when Francis finally touched him, burying his face in Francis's shoulder as the man's talented fingers trailed against him, rubbing him, grasping him.

Matthew's breath hitched and he couldn't hold back a moan, he'd never been touched like this and he didn't know what to think of it.

He pulled away from Francis's shoulder to meet his smoldering blue eyes and Matthew thought he'd melt. Their lips were so close and Matthew had an insatiable urge to kiss Francis, everywhere. Francis brought his face closer, his mouth slightly open, looking like he was thinking the same thing.

But before either could do anything about it Matthew's phone rang.

Francis cursed under his breath as Matthew gave him an apologetic look and pulled his phone out of his pocket, it was Alfred.

Sighing Matthew answered, "This had better be good." He was glad his voice didn't waver or sound rasping as Francis was still feeling him up.

"Hey, Mattie," Alfred said in an oddly cheerful voice, "Look I'm at the store across the street and really want some ice cream but I don't have any money, thank you can help me out?"

If it had been anyway else they might've thought Alfred sounded normal. But Matthew knew better, he heard the catch in his brother's voice, the thickness in his tone. Something was wrong.

"Are you okay," Matthew asked, placing a hand on Francis's chest and pushing him away so Matthew could give his brother his full attention.

"I'm fine," Alfred bit out, sounding not fine at all, "I just want some ice cream Mattie and I need your help! I just…I really need it."

Now his brother definitely sounded upset and Matthew's heart plummeted, "I'm on my way."

Matthew turned to Francis who had just finished licking his fingers, Matthew did his best to pretend he hadn't noticed that, "I'm sorry but something's wrong with Alfred. I have to go get him."

"Can I help," Francis asked and Matthew was touched by his offer but shook his head. "No, this is more of a job for a sibling. Perhaps you should go check on your friends?"

Francis took the hint and nodded, "Yes, who knows what mess they've gotten themselves into in the last five minutes."

"Wait," Matthew said and Francis turned back quickly from where he was heading to the door. "Give me your number and I'll text you when I can."

Francis grinned with delight, "Sure."

They quickly exchanged numbers and went together to the ground floor; outside they said their goodbyes and Matthew hurried to the store where his brother was. But despite his worry for Alfred Matthew's skin still burned where Francis had touched him, and his lips still tingled from the kiss that almost was.


	6. Chapter 6

Ch. 6:

"Gilbert," Antonio said warily.

"Yeah, Toni," Gilbert asked, sounding just as scared.

"I'm seriously freaking out right now."

"Yeah, me too," Gilbert replied.

The two stared with terrified shock at their French friend who lay curled on the couch, clutching a pillow and staring at his phone, he'd been doing this for a few days now.

"Why won't he call," Francis moaned to no one in particular, "Text…something?"

Francis had come home yesterday bragging about the hand job he gave to the Canadian Matthew, but now that said boy hadn't contacted Francis he was starting to freak out.

"Maybe I shouldn't have touched him," Francis said, "I was too fast, I scared him."

Gilbert and Antonio exchanged bewildered glances, where the hell was the real Francis?

"Calm down, mi amigo," Antonio said with a calming hand gesture, "Even if you did there's plenty of fish in the ocean."

"As you've proved time and time again," Gilbert added, but Francis wasn't listening.

Francis suddenly sat up, "I'll text him again!"

Immediately his two friends lunged at him, dog piling him while Gilbert swiped his phone.

"Give that back," Francis demanded as he tried to reach his phone from under his friends' weight.

"Absolutely not," Gilbert said in a rare no nonsense voice.

"You already texted him once," Antonio reminded him.

"Just once," Francis yelled, "Maybe he didn't get it!"

"Sorry bud, but I refuse to have a friend who sends his crush a thousand messages. Freaking the Canadian out isn't going to help."

"Besides, why are you making such a big deal?" Antonio asked, "We can go to a bar and find you a new conquest."

"I don't want a new conquest," Francis whined, still trying to struggle out from under the two but they were incredibly heavy.

"Come on, Francy," Gilbert tried to reason, "We all lose a conquest now again; we won't look down on you. At least, not any lower than we already do."

"Yeah," Antonio agreed, "We'll still love you."

"I want Mathieu," Francis said with force but then stopped struggling with a defeated sigh, "I just want to see him."

Gilbert and Antonio exchanged frightened glances, and then Gilbert glared down at his blond friend, "Are you catching emotions?"

"O-Of course not," Francis assured immediately, "But come on, I'm no quitter. The boy's caught my interest and I intend to stay until my interest is sated."

"Fine," Gilbert said his voice slightly hard, he and Antonio got off him. "Go and shag this Canadian and get it out of your system."

Francis didn't have to be asked twice, forgetting his phone he quickly headed out the door.

Antonio sighed, "I think he's fallen."

Gilbert's throat was tight as he swallowed, "Yeah, me too."

A sudden knocking on the door made Matthew lift his head, quickly standing up he walked to the door, "Hello?"

"Mathieu, it's Francis."

Matthew's heart plummeted and he quickly opened the door, "What are you doing here?"

Francis blinked in surprise and looked put out by Matthew's shocked tone. "Oh, um… You never called back or anything so I thought I'd come see you." He started to back away, "But maybe now isn't the best time…"

"Wait, no, don't go," Matthew said quickly, panicked and guilty at making Francis think he didn't want to see him when that was all Matthew had been thinking about. "I meant to call but something happened to Alfred and he was all depressed and I didn't want to leave him and-" Matthew let out an exhausted sigh and lowered his head, "I'm sorry…"

Warm arms suddenly wrapped around him and Matthew leaned into Francis, taking in his delicious scent.

"You look so tired," Francis soothed.

"Still I should've at least have texted you." He nuzzled into Francis's shoulder, "You're one of the most amazing people I have ever met and I just ignored you."

Too late Matthew realized what he had just said, "Uh, I mean…" He felt his face heat up and he was glad Francis couldn't see his face.

But the French man only chuckled kindly and tightened his grip on Matthew, "You flatter me… Here how about we go inside and sit down?"

Matthew nodded and let Francis lead him back in, as he closed the door he remembered the empty ice cream containers and soda bottles Alfred had left behind and he groaned, "Sorry about the mess."

"It's fine," Francis replied nonchalantly, as he picked up the trash that littered the couch and placed it on the table. "Where is your incredibly depressed brother?"

Matthew moaned as he sat down on the couch, "He has a crush on some local who apparently is in denial. So he's gone out to get older men to buy him drinks." He shuddered, "I'm scared he's going to give up his virginity for a few shots of bourbon."

Francis smiled at him, "He's a virgin too, hmm?"

Matthew blushed, he wanted to ask why Francis would assume that but he knew it was plainly obvious, "Don't say it like it's a bad thing."

"It isn't," Francis assured, coming to sit down on the couch next to Matthew, brushing his thigh against the Canadian's. Matthew pretended not to notice.

"That's one of the many things I like about you."

Francis looked confused, "I'm sorry to disappoint you, Mathieu… But I'm not a virgin."

Matthew chuckled softly, "That's not what I meant. I like the way you say things. You have such a way with words."

Francis grinned and slid his arm around Matthew's waist. Matthew tried not to shiver with pleasure as he felt the pressure of Francis's arm.

"What else do you like about me?"

Matthew blushed but looked up at Francis boldly, "I think your eyes are beautiful."

Francis rested his temple against Matthew's forehead. Matthew nearly stopped breathing when he became so close to Francis's gorgeous blue eyes, their breaths mingling together.

"I know your eyes are beautiful," he whispered.

Matthew closed his eyes and chuckled, "I'm nothing compared to you."

"That's where your wrong darling," Francis breathed as he trailed his lips across Matthew's cheek and down his throat.

Matthew swallowed making Francis pause, "Are you okay? Is it okay if I do this?"

"No," Matthew breathed, "It's not."

Francis stilled, then reluctantly pulled away only for Matthew to grab his face in both hands and brought his lips to Francis's.

Matthew's heart pounded fifty miles a minute as he finally tasted Francis's lips; he had wanted to do this ever since Francis first smiled at him. But as he ran his lips over the French man's mouth he came to a slow realization. Francis wasn't kissing him back.

Matthew pulled away to see Francis staring at him with open eyed shock and Matthew suddenly felt sick, a kiss was way too personal compared to a hand job.

"I'm sorry, Francis," his eyes started watering, "I'm so, so, so sorry! I didn't mean- I just- I won't-"

Matthew's voice cut off as Francis suddenly jumped on top of him, pushing him back down onto the couch and slammed their lips together.

Matthew's eyelids fluttered as Francis's tongue slipped between Matthew's lips and slid their tongues together. Matthew moaned in pleasure and wrapped his arms around Francis's shoulders.

He couldn't help letting out a small whine as Francis pulled away. He smiled down at Matthew, his eyes and cheeks dark, "Don't you dare apologize Mathieu, I've wanted to do that since I met you."

"Is-is that so," Matthew murmured, his lips tingling.

Francis chuckled again before bringing his lips down to place butterfly kisses down Matthew's jaw line, then his neck, down to his collar bone.

Matthew hissed in pleasure as Francis lifted his shirt up to caress Matthew's nipples, molding them into hard buds.

"F-Francis," Matthew panted.

"Mathieu," Francis's breath was warm as he moved his lips to Matthew's stomach.

"Y-yeah," Matthew breathed, running his fingers through Francis's long soft hair. Sparks of warmth shot down his spine, and Matthew realized he was suddenly very aroused.

Matthew tried to push Francis away, embarrassed that he was so excited. Francis lifted his head to look at Matthew with confusion, then smiled at Matthew's heavily blushing face and pressed down into the boy's pelvis.

He let out a sharp cry and tried not to squirm, the slightest movement sending shockwaves through him. Francis hovered over Matthew, their faces inches apart, the tips of Francis's hair grazing Matthew's cheeks.

"Do you want me, Mathieu?"

Matthew's tongue turned cotton, his lungs stopped functioning, and his heart stopped beating.

Did he? He really, really liked Francis but…this was too quick, too real. He wasn't ready for this.

But he couldn't say that to Francis, he was too scared to…he didn't want Francis to leave…

Matthew closed his eyes and pressed his cheek against the couch cushion. He could do this. He could do this! Francis hand moved to his pants and Matthew swallowed when he heard his pants being unzipped.

Calm down, calm down; calm down, calm-

"Mathieu, why are you crying?"

Matthew's eyes popped opened at Francis's concerned voice, he realized he was crying and that Francis was looking down at him with worry.

"I-I," he didn't know what to say. He was crying because someone as beautiful as Francis wanted to be with him?

"I can't…" Matthew whispered but then bit his tongue, feeling more tears blur his vision.

Francis furrowed his brows, "You can't…OH!" His eyes widened in realization, he blinked then nodded, "Okay."

"I'm so sorry, Francis," Matthew sobbed, turning on his side and burying his face in his hands. "I really like you, I really do! I'm- I'm just scared…"

He felt soft lips caress his cheek, then warm breath on his ear, "Please don't cry, Mathieu. I'm not mad or anything, of course you're scared. I really like you too, enough to be patient and wait as long as we need to."

Matthew looked up, blinking in surprise, "You will?"

Francis nodded, "Of course, for now we can just…snuggle."

Matthew smiled and wrapped his arms around Francis and pulled him closer. Francis nuzzled into Matthew's neck and breathed in, "You smell like maple syrup."

Matthew chuckled, and buried his face in Francis's hair. "You smell wonderful."

As the two lay side by side Francis couldn't help but wonder what the hell had happened to him. Snuggle, he has actually suggested they snuggle?! The only time Francis did anything like this was if his one night stand was pretty enough to look at for a bit before they caught their breath. But, he realized, it was incredibly nice to just lie here with Matthew wrapped around him. And he couldn't ignore the pain he had felt when Matthew had asked why he was here, and the immense relief he felt when Matthew admitted how important Francis was to him. And how scared he had felt when Matthew cried…Something weird was definitely going on here.

While they exchanged a few soft kisses Francis couldn't help but run his hands through Matthew's hair, it was feathery soft and he could slid his fingers through it all day. While he did that Matthew massaged Francis's neck, sliding his fingers up behind Francis's ear and massaging there, Francis let out a sigh at the delightful pressure and closed his eyes.

"That feels good," he breathed, "Who taught you that?"

"My mom," Matthew said quietly, "She used to pull me into her lap and do this whenever I was having a bad day."

Francis was jealous of the boy's mother, he wanted to pull Matthew into his lap, "I guess she doesn't do this much now that you're all grown, huh," he chuckled.

"No, I think she'd still do it if she hadn't-" Matthew stopped instantly and Francis could feel the happy atmosphere fading.

Francis opened an eye and saw that Matthew was looking away, his face gloomy. Francis opened his other eye and brought his hand to Matthew's cheek, forcing him to look at Francis.

"If she hadn't what," he asked gently.

Intense grief grayed the boy's violet eyes and he shuddered, "If-if she hadn't died."

A wave of guilt hit Francis as the boy tried to rub his tears away, "I'm so sorry, Mathieu."

"No, I'm the one who's sorry," Matthew's voice was tight as he tried to wipe away the tears that continued to pour, "It's been years I shouldn't cry like this."

"Did you let yourself cry when she died," Francis asked quietly.

Matthew stopped and stared at Francis, "N-no, I…I was trying to be strong for her."

"Crying is not a weakness," Francis replied, "It helps cope with the pain."

He pulled Matthew into his arms, burying the boy's face in his chest, "Now, I want you to cry. As hard and as long as you can until it doesn't hurt as much, okay?"

"Y-you sure," Matthew sounded so close to breaking, the sound making Francis's chest hurt.

"I'm sure, and I'll be right here through it all."

So Matthew did, he sobbed and sobbed, clutching Francis for dear life like he'd disappear if he let go. All the while Francis rubbed his back and kissed his hair, he barely noticed that he had never comforted anyone before, but it came so naturally. He remembered the early vow he had made, to not care, to not get emotionally involved. But he realized he couldn't help it. I want to know absolutely everything about you, Mathieu.

"I love you," Matthew breathed against Francis's bare chest, "I'm always loved you."

Francis bathed in Matthew's moans as he kissed a hot trail down Matthew's neck, pressing their bare bodies together.

"Francis," he hissed as Francis steadily went lower and lower as he licked him, "Francis."

Francis's grinned as he tasted Matthew, he tasted oh so delicious, "Are you enjoying yourself, mon cher?"

"YES I AM!"

The sudden yell startled Francis from his dream; he let out a slight whimper before taking in his surroundings. He was still at Matthew's hotel.

He took a moment to stretch languidly, feeling eyes on him he turned around. Immediately his eyes found Matthew and he smiled warmly at the blushing boy. But then he noticed a boy standing next to Matthew, "Am I seeing double?" But as he really looked at the boy he could see that despite their similar appearances this boy's hair wasn't as magnificent as Matthew's, and his eyes were blue instead of violet, he wasn't as attractive as Matthew either.

"Francis," Matthew spoke up, "This is the brother I told you about, Alfred. Alfred, this is Francis."

Francis smiled cheerfully, trying to appear friendly to the boy who was looking at him warily, "Bonjour."

"You too," Alfred replied, and to Francis's relief a small smile turned his lips.

"Your brother was frightfully worried for you," Francis said, resting his elbows on the back of the couch and putting his head in his hands, "Did you end up selling your body for wine like he feared you would?"

Alfred blushed, "No! Actually Mattie, remember that problem I had before I left?" Now the boy smiled, looking like a child at Christmas, "It's solved."

Matthew looked up at him with surprised delight, "Really, how?"

"What are we talking about," Francis asked, he couldn't help but feel left out of the conversation.

"Alfred had a falling out with a new friend of his," Matthew explained before turning back to his brother, "But you said it's resolved?"

"I said it's solved," the boy stated proudly, lifting his head, "Arthur and I are going to hang out tomorrow at three."

Francis's heart stopped and his eyes widened though neither brother caught it. Did Alfred just say…Non, non, impossible. It wasn't his Arthur. That boy had been all uptight and boring, looking at Alfred he was definitely the kind of guy who'd go for the adventurous boisterous type. There was no chance Francis might actually run into that thick-browed lunatic again, right?

"So you're going on a date," Matthew's voice broke Francis's terrified thoughts.

Alfred looked away in embarrassment, "I wouldn't call it a date. Just two friends hanging out, that's all."

"Well, that's good," Matthew smirked, and Francis could tell his little Canadian didn't believe a word his brother said. Wait…his?

"Well then, considering it's like two in the morning you need to get some sleep," Matthew continued, nudging his brother to his room.

"What about him," Alfred stopped and looked pointedly at Francis who almost shivered under that distrusting gaze. So maybe he hadn't completely won his brother over.

Matthew looked to Francis and his brother, looking unsure, a look Francis didn't like one bit. "I need to head back to my friends anyway, don't worry. Sorry for falling asleep on your couch." He laughed breezily, warmed by his memories of lying there with Matthew.

"But I'm glad I got to meet the famous Alfred," he added, standing up and giving a splendid bow, "Au revoir."

He made sure to give Matthew a wink and a smile before he departed. But as he headed down to the ground floor he thought of how many kisses he had shared in his years, honestly too many to count. And yet, after all that time kissing professionals, his lips still tingled from kissing one shy little virgin.


	7. Chapter 7

Ch. 7:

Francis mouthed an apology from across the table and Matthew smiled with reassurance, he really wasn't bothered.

Not long after Alfred left on his date-not-date with Arthur, Francis had appeared stating there was no reason that his brother has all the fun and invited Matthew on a definite date. Matthew had been beyond thrilled as he took Francis's hand and was led back outside, his enthusiasm didn't even damper when they ran into Gilbert and Antonio who decided to follow along (though Francis hissed that they were just spying). With those two along their date destination turned to a karaoke bar.

Now Francis sat across from Matthew, while Gilbert sat next to the Canadian and Antonio claimed the seat next to his French friend, waiting for their drinks to arrive while an old man sang a Beatles song.

"So, Mattie," Gilbert turned to him, resting an elbow on the table and his head in his hand, "Got any interesting stories about Francis to share with us?"

Matthew's mind instantly went to last night and he hoped he wasn't blushing, "W-What do you mean?"

"You know, has he done anything clumsy or embarrassing yet," Antonio asked, "Because if he hasn't yet it's only a matter of time."

Matthew tilted his head, confused, "What do you mean by that?"

"Oh, you don't know," Gilbert laughed then pointed at the glaring Francis, "This cream puff is a grade a klutz, not to mention a pansy."

"You can shut up now, Gil," Francis all but growled.

"But it's true, mi amigo," Antonio added with a smile, "Remember that one time you tripped on air and kissed the sidewalk?"

"Of course he doesn't," Gilbert cut in, "That's happened so many times he's lost count."

"I was drunk," Francis explained, "And it's not like you two were exactly poised that night either."

"True," Antonio laughed at the memory, "But I never pretend I am a graceful person."

"I may not be graceful," Gilbert winked at Matthew, "But I am pretty awesome."

Matthew allowed a soft smile, their laughter was starting to get contagious, "Well, there was that time when we were ice skating."

Immediately Gilbert and Antonio leaned forward with interest, but Francis looked at Matthew with dismay, "Et tu, Mathieu?"

"S-sorry," Matthew said quickly, feeling guilty for bringing it up when he knew how embarrassed Francis was about it, "I won't say anything."

Antonio booed while Gilbert looked at him, indignant, "You can't shut your mouth now! Not when you got us all excited!" He turned to glare at Francis, "Now he's a tease just like you!"

Matthew wondered what he meant by that but then Francis sighed with defeat, "Very well, go ahead and tell them, Mathieu."

"Are you sure," Matthew asked.

Now it was Francis's turn to smile at him with assurance, "If you don't they'll pester me about it until my ears bleed, do save me from that torture."

By the time Matthew finished his story Gilbert and Antonio couldn't stop laughing, not even when their drinks arrived.

"Why," Gilbert gasped, wiping away a tear, "Could you not video tape that, take a picture, something!? That sounds like the best thing, Francis falling on his ass in front of a bunch of kids and I can't-" Gilbert burst into another fit of giggles.

"Would you by any chance want to go ice skating afterwards, Francis," Antonio asked, only to receive a smack on the head.

Matthew felt a wave of guilt and fiddled with the straw in his drink, Francis looked so angry and it was because of him. Guess this'll be my first and last date…

"It's all fun and games isn't it Gilbert," Francis spoke to the laughing albino with a nasty grin as Antonio rubbed his swore head. "At least, until…someone mentions May 8th.

Immediately Gilbert stopped laughing and sent a terrifying look to Francis, "You wouldn't."

"Oh, but I would," Francis smiled then cleared his throat, "One day, while at a pub in Italy a young lass with flowing red hair came and punched-"

"Shut it," Gilbert barked so sharply Matthew nearly jumped out of his chair.

"What am I missing," Matthew asked.

"Oh, about a year ago Gilbert got sucker punched by some lady," Antonio explained, "She hit him so hard he hit the ground, it was really funny." The Spaniard had to duck when Gilbert swung a fist at him.

"First off," Gilbert seethed, lifting a finger, "I only fell because it was a sneak attack, if I had seen her coming it would've been different." He lifted another finger, "Second, her hair was brown, not red."

"Ah, yes," Francis said with a devilish smile, "And such heavenly brown eyes."

"They were green you idiot do you never pay attention-" Gilbert stopped and Matthew could see his pale cheeks starting to redden before he snapped, "You know what shut up!"

Francis and Antonio both laughed before Francis stood up, "If you gentleman and two hooligans will excuse me I need to use the restroom." He aimed a serious look at his friends, "Do not scare Mathieu off while I'm gone."

"We make no promises," Antonio waved as Francis walked off.

Matthew chuckled, "You three have been friends for a long time, haven't you."

"Oh yeah, since when we were like, twelve," Antonio said with a smile, "My parents were huge tourists and wanted to visit Italy, at the same time Francis's parents wanted to find some wine to sell at their restaurant so we met on the plane."

"Then they came to the awesome Beilschidmt vineyard and met the awesome me," Gilbert finished, "But enough about us, tell us about you."

Matthew blinked, "What about me?"

"Well, Francis doesn't exactly spend this much time with one person," Antonio said and Matthew felt those words sting, but he wasn't sure why. "So what makes you so special?"

Matthew shrugged helplessly, "I don't know, I'm just as confused as why he hangs out with me."

"Have you had sex yet," Gilbert asked bluntly and Matthew nearly choked on his drink.

"N-no," Matthew sputtered, blushing, "We haven't." And he doubted he would've talked about it with his friends if he had.

"Huh," Gilbert said thoughtfully and Matthew suddenly felt uncomfortable in the albino's gaze.

The music stopped and Antonio sat up immediately, "Okay, that old dude's gone, come on Gil!" He reached his hand out to his friend, "Do you trust me?"

"Nope," Gilbert said, taking his hand, "But that has never stopped me once in my life."

"Want to sing with us," they offered but Matthew shook his head.

While the two went to select a song Francis returned and breathed a sigh of relief as he saw his friends not at the table, "Thank God," he said, taking his original seat, Matthew was a little disappointed he didn't take Gilbert's seat, "I really should've hid my trail from them.

"I-I'm sorry," Matthew finally said.

Francis cocked an eyebrow, "Sorry about what?" He suddenly paled in terror, "What did those two beasts do while I was gone?"

"Oh, nothing," Matthew quickly assured and Francis deflated in relief, "I mean, I'm sorry about earlier, about mentioning the ice skating."

Francis smiled, "You don't have to apologize about that, Mathieu. I'm not mad or anything."

"Really," the boy asked hopefully, eyes beginning to twinkle.

"Of course not," Francis laughed, "I was just embarrassed, I didn't want those two to soil your opinion of me."

"They didn't," Matthew promised, "I still like you."

Francis's eyes were warm as he gazed at Matthew, "I'm glad."

Gilbert and Antonio chose that time to start singing and Matthew looked over his shoulder to watch them sing a Katy Perry song.

"Oh dear," Francis's moaned, burying his head in his hands, "Can they never stop with this mortification."

"I think you're lucky," Matthew said, "I never had many friends growing up except for my brother."

"More proof that you grew up surrounded by idiots," Francis replied and Matthew smiled as he continued to watch Gilbert and Antonio.

As he watched Matthew slipped his shoe off and trailed his foot across Francis's ankle, it was too loud for the Canadian to hear Francis's intake of breath.

"They're really getting into it aren't they," Matthew laughed as he watched the two, "I think Gilbert would surf the crowd if there was one."

Francis trailed his foot up Matthew's leg, "Oh there is no doubt, and it's already been done."

Matthew turned to Francis with disbelief as his toe circled the Frenchman's ankle, "Are you serious?"

"Oh yes," Francis replied, reaching Matthew's knee, "The memory's kind of foggy, I don't remember what band it was nor if we actually paid to get in. But damn me if he hadn't climbed onto the stage and jumped right into that throng of people. Those people were so surprised they nearly didn't catch him."

"Lucky for Gilbert they did," Matthew replied, now sliding his own foot up Francis's leg.

"Yes, it was," Francis smiled devilishly, "That is until he surfed his way over to Antonio and I, we let him fall."

Matthew laughed, "You three really have each other's back, don't you?"

"Oh, yes, inseparable we are," Francis smiled at Matthew, his foot finally reached Matthew's inner thigh, "Nothing's ever gotten between us…until now."

Matthew's smiled faded slightly at those words, "I don't think Gilbert likes me that much." He couldn't forget the way Gilbert had looked at him earlier, like he was trying to figure Matthew out, and ask what made him so special.

Francis sighed, "Gilbert can be a little possessive when Antonio and I are involved. It's just been us for years now and he doesn't like the thought of these days of endless adventure and drinking ending."

"Will it," Matthew asked, their game of footsie forgotten.

Francis gave him a serious, slightly sad look, "Of course it will, everything does. But Gilbert refuses to believe that, I can understand why, but still…"

"My mom once told me that when one adventure ends, another begins."

Francis smiled, "She was a wise woman then."

Matthew smiled, "What's your next adventure, Francis?"

Francis opened his mouth to speak when suddenly Gilbert ran over to them, "You guys come on! We need a quartet!"

"You must be joking," Francis said and Gilbert shot him a puppy dog look.

"I don't mind," Matthew lied, he had never sang before, and he didn't want to start in a room full of staring people. But he thought it was important to make as many memories as possible before this adventure ended, for both Francis and himself.

"Very well," Francis agreed, standing up. Gilbert grabbed Matthew's arm and dragged him out of his chair to where Antonio waited with four microphones in his arms. They ended up choosing a One Direction song and as the music started Matthew realized he had made a huge mistake when he saw all those people staring at him, he swallowed his throat suddenly dry.

But then a warm hand rested on the small of his back and Francis winked at him, "If you can ice skate, mon cher, you can certainly read lyrics."

Before Matthew could reply Gilbert starting singing, though standing next to him it sounded more like he was just screaming the words. Antonio and Francis joined in, their voices much smoother and Matthew quickly joined in. After a few moments he didn't mind the stares anymore, in fact, this was really fun. He started to sing louder and louder, trying to get as loud as Gilbert, the albino noticed this and gave Matthew a devious yet playful grin before raising his voice even louder and Matthew realized there was no beating that. He smiled at Francis, who grinned back, wrapping his arm around Matthew's waist and pulled him closer, Matthew adored how natural it felt to be so close to Francis, like he was born to be by his side.

"That was really fun," Matthew laughed cheeks warm as Francis escorted him to his hotel, arms linked.

"I'm so glad you think so," Francis said, "I was sure my day was ruined when Gilbert and Antonio tagged along."

"No," Matthew assured, "I like your friends."

They continued their walk in silence when Francis spoke up, "Mathieu, can I ask you something?"

"Of course," he replied, curious.

"Would it be incredibly rude to steal a kiss right now?"

Matthew smiled, "It's not stealing if it's given to you willing."

But sadly before Francis could act a loud voice caught there attention, Matthew's heart sank when he recognized that familiar voice singing the Batman theme song.

"MATTIE!"

Matthew turned and sure enough, Alfred was waving at him with both arms next to the hotel, his face flushed and smiling like an idiot. "I'VE MISSED YOU SOOO MUCH BROTHER OF MINE~!"

"Mathieu," Francis spoke, sounding like he was desperately trying to hide his amusement, "I believe your brother is what I call Beilschidmt drunk."


	8. Chapter 8

Ch. 8:

Francis spent the night on the couch at Matthew's hotel room so he could help him with his brother's hangover. Matthew felt for his brother who moaned in pain all day but he enjoyed spending time with Francis, even if the only thing they did was kiss, it was a really nice thing to do.

After Alfred recovered Matthew spent the next few days with Francis and sometimes his friends. They tried ice-skating again (Francis didn't improve, much to Gilbert and Antonio's delight). One day Francis spent all day teaching Matthew all kinds of French dishes, according to the French man Matthew had a gift and he once again stated that Matthew needed to move to Paris to work in the family restaurant. Though this time it sounded less like a joke and more like a sincere request, to which Matthew didn't know how to react.

He even met the famous Arthur, Matthew was sure not to bring up Francis as Alfred had warned him that a French man once broke Arthur's heart. He could tell the Brit was just as anti-social as he was and they ended up only nodding at each until Alfred picked a topic. And Matthew noticed the glow in Alfred's eyes when he talked to Arthur, he didn't say anything but he knew. His brother had fallen hard, and as much as he knew it was a bad idea, Matthew had too.

Francis paced outside Matthew's hotel, waiting for the Canadian to arrive; the plan was to have a nice walk in Hyde Park, then a home-made dinner, and then…maybe…

Francis's heart beat faster at the thought.

Hearing the hotel double doors open Francis whipped around and smiled as Matthew and his brother walked out to the pathway.

"Bonjour mi ami," Francis greeted Alfred with a smile, always on the quest to win over Matthew's brother. He then looked to Matthew who was wearing the nicest clothes Francis had seen on him, and he spent a moment just gazing at him, wondering how he could be so beautiful and his staring made Matthew blush adorably.

"So," Alfred interrupted loudly, startling Francis from his gazing, "Where are you guys heading?"

Francis explained his date idea to Alfred, who watched him suspiciously, it was almost like Alfred knew Francis's past which was impossible, yet he recalled that as far as he knew Alfred was dating Arthur. He was careful not to visit Matthew unless he knew Alfred was gone, he couldn't risk running into Arthur, not after meeting Matthew.

"Well, I suppose that sounds alright," Alfred conceded, "Kind of boring but then again that is Matthew's style."

Matthew glared at Alfred and Francis spoke up, "I think your brother is very interesting."

His heartfelt words made Alfred blink before smiling, "And that's why I allow you to hang out with him."

"To which I'm eternally grateful," Francis replied, giving Alfred's shoulder a pat.

Then quite suddenly there was the sound of running footsteps.

"YOU DAMN GIT!" Suddenly Francis was tackled roughly to the ground, too shocked to fight back as he was scratched and hit. He finally looked up to see who his attacker was and his throat caught. He'd recognize those glaring green eyes and giant eyebrows anywhere.

"Arthur."

"How dare you come back," Arthur hissed and Francis had to hold the Brit's arms to keep him from strangling him, "How dare you touch him!"

Francis was saved by Alfred wrapping his arms around Arthur and dragging him, kicking and screaming, off.

"Arthur, calm down," Alfred ordered and for the first time Francis felt guilt when he saw the dismayed, betrayed look Arthur gave the young American.

Arthur started to scream at Alfred but Francis stop listening when he noticed the look Matthew gave him, the Canadian had put two and two together.

"Mathieu," he began as Matthew helped him to his feet, but the boy quickly released Francis's arm as if it had burned him. Francis's throat tightened. This wasn't supposed to happen; it wasn't supposed to be like this. But deep down he knew he deserved it. But he also knew he couldn't lose Matthew.

"Yes, he is," Arthur suddenly snapped, by the look on Alfred's face he had figured out the connection too.

"You've been around this bastard all this time," Arthur continued, "What did he tell you about me!?"

Feeling sick with guilt from all the pain he had caused he dared to speak, "You got it wrong, Arthur." Alfred didn't deserve to be blamed for what Francis did, "He's-"

"SHUT UP," Arthur barked in fury, turning to glare at him and Francis saw the tears in the Brit's eyes. He really had hurt him…despite all his words he had been sure Arthur would've forgotten about it.

"Haven't you done enough? Or do you just take pleasure in watching me suffer?"

Those words along with the heartbroken look Matthew gave him, Francis thought he'd really be sick.

Before he could even think of something appropriate to say Arthur was gone, Alfred giving chase after him. He couldn't go after him, despite the guilt over what he'd done it was the person standing next to him, staring at him with horrified betrayal, that's the person that mattered most to him.

"I can explain," he assured but Matthew was glaring at him with a cold look Francis had never seen before.

The Canadian turned his back and headed back to the hotel, "Come on." His voice was harsh, "I'll clean those scratches for you."

Feeling his whole world falling around him, Francis numbly followed.

Matthew couldn't breathe, he felt like he would be sick. All he could think of was that look of suffering on Arthur's face and what Alfred had told him about the man who broke Arthur's heart, who he now realized was Francis.

I'm just a conquest…After everything that's happened I'm just a conquest.

He tried to make his heart go cold; he refused to cry in front of Francis, he wouldn't give him that satisfaction. However it would've been far easier if he couldn't feel Francis's eyes on his back.

Inside the hotel room Matthew ran cold water over a cloth before handing it to Francis who waited in the living room, he wasn't even sure why he was helping him anymore.

"Here," he mumbled, "Your face is all dirty." Arthur certainly had given it to him good before Alfred pulled him off, not that the Canadian could blame him.

"Merci," Francis replied quietly, taking the cloth. Matthew was aware of the Frenchman trying to catch his eye but Matthew refused to look at him.

Crossing his arms he remembered that as a mature Canadian he needed to be polite, even if it stung, "Are you okay, nothing broken or bleeding?"

"Non, Mathieu," Francis replied and took a step forward.

Matthew quickly took a step back; he didn't want to be near Francis, didn't want to feel his warmth or smell his scent and be reminded that it wasn't his to claim, "Good."

"Mathieu…please listen to me. You're not- you're not…you are special to me, you really are."

Matthew gritted his teeth feeling sick, how long was Francis going to play him for a fool? "How many times have you told someone that?"

He desperately ignored the guilt in his heart when he saw Francis flinch, as if he'd be stabbed. "I…but Mathieu…you're-"

Matthew cut him off, "I'm what?! Boring? Gullible? I got news for you, I already knew that!"

"NO! No Mathieu….you're beautiful." Francis reached out and grasped Matthew's arm in a gentle grip and the Canadian realized he had no strength to pull away. Why did Francis have to look at him like that? Like his words were sincere and he actually cared. Why did he have to be such a good liar?

"You are captivating," he continued, "You are kind. When I'm with you, my world stops and my thoughts cloud. When you smile you're eyes put the stars to shame."

If anyone else had said that Matthew would have found it ridiculously corny, how did Francis say it with such feeling? He sounded so heartfelt, like he'd start crying, and that was the last straw for Matthew, the tears he had desperately tried to hold back came full force and he started to sob.

"How am I supposed to believe that after everything? HOW FRANCIS?!"

Francis suddenly wrapped his arms around him and Matthew tensed up, hating how natural and warm and good it felt to be held by him, and yet loving it.

"Mathieu, I would do anything to make you believe me," Francis cried, his voice hoarse with remorse and pain. Matthew blinked, not knowing what to say he cautiously returned the embrace, sinking into him and sobbing.

Francis led him to the couch where they both sat down, he stroked Matthew's hair and the Canadian did nothing to stop him.

"I…I know my past isn't the best in terms of relationships, but Mathieu…When I met you, everything changed. I never believed in the love of fairy tales, only the game of lust. But you…you made me believe. The feeling I felt with you is, unlike anything I've ever known…Mathieu, I cherish you, and you stopped being a conquest a long time ago."

Matthew stared into Francis's beseeching blue eyes; did Francis just say he loved him? He looked so vulnerable and small sitting there, his eyes wet and scared and Matthew realized…he saw no lie…

"Francis…"

"I mean it, Mathieu," he said determinedly, "I have no doubt…"

Matthew was no longer listening, "Francis…" He brought his hand up to grasp the back of Francis's neck, "Kiss me."

Francis faced went from shocked to hesitant, then he slowly leaned forward and their lips met. And suddenly everything didn't matter, no matter what had happened in the past Francis was here with Matthew now and he…he cherished him…No one had ever said that to Matthew before, then again, no one had ever looked at him the way Francis did.

He buried his fingers in Francis's long silky hair, deepening the kiss. Francis pushed his tongue through Matthew's lips and the Canadian moaned as he tasted him. Francis suddenly pushed Matthew down onto the couch, laying sprawled over him. But Matthew didn't mind, he traps Francis's hips between his thighs, adoring the feel of the Frenchman on top of him. He heard Francis purr before he started to nip at Matthew's collarbone. Matthew felt heat pool throughout him and as he breathed heavily he knew his face was crimson.

Francis started to tug at Matthew's shirt, realizing what he wanted Matthew pulled his shirt off himself, his heart pounding. Francis grinned that smile that made Matthew melt before he too removed his shirt, and Matthew gasped quietly, seeing Francis's chest for the first time. He reached a hand up to trail his fingers through the fine blond hairs that decorated it. Francis lay back down on Matthew, pressing their chests together, Matthew took note that Francis's heart was beating just as fast.

The spent a few more minutes kissing when Francis placed his hand on Matthew's thigh as if asking for permission and this time Matthew was ready and wanting. He spread his thighs apart and nodded in answer, despite his excitement he still started to tremble with nerves.

Francis moved to Matthew's pants but then stopped, placing a firm hand on his leg, "You are shaking…" He sounded so sad.

"I'm…just kind of scared," Matthew replied quickly, "This is…this is…"

Francis smiled sweetly at him, "It's okay." He pulled Matthew up into his arms, "Don't be scared."

Matthew buried his face in Francis's neck, "I trust you." And he meant it.

Francis breathed out, as if understanding the weight in Matthew's words, before gently pushing him back onto the couch. He undid the Canadian's pants and quickly removed them; he spent a moment gazing down at Matthew so intensely the boy thought he would explode.

Francis ran his hand up Matthew's leg all the way to his side, then to his cheek which he cupped. Matthew smiled a content smile, once again running his fingers through Francis's silky hair. "You're beautiful."

Francis smiled down at him, "Merci, but I can't hold a candle to you, mon cher." His eyes glowed and Matthew could tell he wasn't lying, which surprised him all the more. Francis really did think he was beautiful.

Francis finally kicked off his own pants and they were now both in the nude, Francis chuckled when he saw Matthew staring. He once again laid over him, pressing their hips together and the feel made Matthew suck in a breath and squirmed, that felt amazing and Francis wasn't even inside yet.

"Shhh," he breathed, pressing their lips together, laying a comforting hand over Matthew's frantic heart as he grinded against him harder.

Matthew moaned and pushed against Francis, making the Frenchman let out a light gasp.

"I-I want you inside," Matthew breathed, grasping the couch arm.

"Me too," Francis was hoarse and seemed to have a mixture of frustration and sadness, "But we can't yet, we need lube…oil…something."

Matthew's heart sank, "I don't have anything like that." Francis wouldn't really stop now, would he?

"Then I guess we'll just have to improvise," Francis decided with a nod to himself.

Matthew didn't have to ask what, immediately Francis pulled the boy's legs over his shoulders so Francis's face was right next to him. He let out a yelp and quickly covered his mouth with both hands as Francis dipped his tongue inside him. He must be kidding; Matthew would come right away from this!

"F-Francis," he moaned, "I'll-I'll come if you-"

"Then come," Francis replied, licking his lips, "Come as many times as you want."

Matthew shuddered as Francis dipped his tongue back in and thoroughly made him wet, he placed Matthew's hips back down on the couch and the Canadian wrapped his legs around Francis's hips, his breath shuddering as he felt Francis pressing up against him.

"Are you ready, mon cher?"

Too aroused to form a coherent word Matthew simply nodded, melting under Francis's sensual smile.

He hissed as Francis slowly started to slide into him, this was too much. He couldn't handle it.

"Fra-ah," Matthew was cut short as Francis's cock slowly started to slide farther into him, his blood boiled at the bizarre yet not unpleasant feeling.

Francis made a sound between a purr and a growl as he leaned over Matthew, clutching the younger man's wrists, trapping Matthew in place.

"Oh, Mathieu," he rasped, his long silky hair draping his face, "I'm not even completely inside you yet and I'm dangerously close to coming."

"Then come," Matthew breathed, heart about to burst inside his chest, his length at attention, "You can come all over me if you want."

Francis made a whimper in the back of his throat before leaning down and licking Matthew's neck exactly where his pulse thrummed.

Matthew laced his fingers around Francis's neck, and urged him closer, deeper. He let out a sudden cry as with a thrust Francis slipped the rest of the way in.

"I'll go slowly," he promised into the Canadian's ear as he tenderly continued to grind Matthew. "But believe me when I say that I'm going to make your ass a complete mess."

Matthew shivered and started to moan as Francis started to move more easily as Matthew got wetter, which meant that Francis started to move faster.

With one hand wrapped in Francis's hair Matthew moved his free hand down to his own cock and started rubbing. As they gasped and moaned Francis edged to the right, but the sudden movement caused them both to tumble off the couch onto the floor, Matthew sprawled over Francis.

The Frenchman started to laugh but was quickly stopped as Matthew started to nimble on his nipples, "You taste so good."

"Why don't I pour maple syrup all over me," Francis suggested devilishly.

"Yes," Matthew hissed, making Francis chuckle.

He let the boy taste his chest for a few moments before finally sitting up, "Mathieu, stop."

Matthew's heart skipped a panicked beat, as he sat up as good as he could considering Francis was still inside him. "Why? Did I do something wrong?"

"Of course not," Francis grinned, running the pad of his thumb across Matthew's sweat-streaked cheek. "I just want to do this right, and the right place is the bed."

So despite Matthew's reluctance he pulled out and led Francis to his bedroom, glad he had kept it clean.

"Mathieu," Francis murmured, lying down on the bed, "Ride me."

Matthew swallowed and pulled himself onto Francis's lap, grabbing his hips Francis pushed him down onto his wet cock.

Matthew shuddered violently, a silent moan escaping him as a thin trail of saliva running down his chin, "Francis~"

"Move Mathieu," Francis whispered, "Make me come all over you like you promised."

Matthew grinned and started to rock against Francis's stone hard length, shivering at the soft moans that escaped Francis's even softer lips.

"Francis…touch me."

Francis lifted his hand, trailing his fingers down to Matthew's chest, to his taut stomach, and finally grabbing his throbbing length.

Matthew let out a high-pitched sound he had never made before, his face blushed harder.

With a chuckling grin Francis sat up then pinned Matthew down onto the bed, he massaged Matthew's inner thigh while he started pumping his cock and the mixture of tender and rough affection had Matthew continuing to moan in that high-pitched way as sweat glistened off Francis's golden skin.

"Ah-oh, Francis, you're so beautiful," he couldn't help but moan, he wanted Francis to know how wonderful he was. He had to know how much Matthew cherished him!

"Then what are you supposed to be if not beautiful," Francis asked, his voice hoarse, "Gorgeous? Radiant? Perfect?"

Touched Matthew wanted to reply but Francis started to thrust faster and faster and Matthew gritted his teeth, holding his breath as his insides escalated.

Suddenly his climax hit and Matthew arched his back with a loud cry as ecstasy spread through him and he came all over himself and Francis. A moment later Francis let out a low hoarse moan, pressing desperately against Matthew. Their tongues danced as Francis pooled hot inside him and Matthew hadn't expected it to feel so good.

"Damn, mon cher," Francis laughed as he caught his breath. "You're a natural."

Matthew smiled, his limbs felt like liquid and all he wanted was to fall asleep with Francis's damp, bare body wrapped around him.

"Don't go to sleep yet," Francis ordered when Matthew started to close his eyes. "We need to clean you up."

"I can't stand," Matthew half-heartedly whined, his legs felt like jelly.

"I never planned for you too," Francis grinned.

He started to drag his tongue down Matthew's body, licking up the semen before reaching Matthew's still dripping cock. With a lustful look up at Matthew he licked his lips and opened his mouth.


	9. Chapter 9

Ch. 9:

Matthew awake, drowsy and warm and content tangled up in the blankets. Turning over he felt a spark of panic when he didn't see Francis lying next to him before a familiar voice came from the door.

"Are you awake yet, mon cher?" Francis asked warmly.

Matthew sat up and stretched, "I am now."

"Well, come on then, I made pancakes," Francis smiled, "I doubt there as good as yours but hopefully they'll do."

Matthew grinned, remembering when he cooked pancakes for the two of them a few days ago and how he told Francis how much he loved the sweet breakfast, his chest fluttered. "Do they have maple syrup?"

Francis chuckled as Matthew got up and pulled on some clothes, "Of course. But don't you want to shower before you eat?"

Matthew shook his head, "No, I'm hungry. Unless…do I need to take a shower?"

Francis laughed as he walked over and wrapped an arm around Matthew, "Mon cher, you smell like roses."

Matthew giggled as Francis nibbled on his neck, "How about those pancakes?"

Francis pulled away with slight reluctance, "Yes, of course, shall we?"

After finishing the pancakes (Matthew assured the anxious Francis that they were delicious) the two sat on the couch watching old morning shows. Francis's leg wrapped around Matthew's, their fingers intertwined.

With his head on Francis's shoulders Matthew couldn't recall a time he had felt so happy, he wanted it to last forever. But when he heard the door open he jumped to his feet, knowing exactly who it was.

"Al-Alfred," he stammered, taking in his brother unkempt appearance and knowing why his brother hadn't return last night. Alfred stood with his jaw slack, looking like he couldn't believe what he was seeing and Matthew recalled the events yesterday, of course Alfred was confused. He was expecting to find his brother a sobbing mess.

He almost did…

Francis stood up next to him, looking strangely uncomfortable but Matthew thought it looked charming on him.

"How's Arthur?" Francis asked guilty and Matthew flinched, knowing that was the wrong thing to ask his brother.

Alfred's surprise turned into hostility as he glared at Francis, "He's great," Alfred's voice was like venom, "No thanks to you."

"Oh-good," Francis said, looking away awkwardly.

"Now give me one good reason why I shouldn't tear you apart after hurting Arthur and messing with my brother."

Matthew immediately jumped in front of Francis as his brother made a threatening step toward them, "Because I'm telling you not to!" He was surprised and pleased by how strong his voice came out.

Alfred stared at him with disbelief, "Have you gone mental, Mattie? Did you not see what happened yesterday? Have you any idea-"

"Yes," Matthew cut in, "I do; Francis explain everything." He quickly took a deep breath to steady himself, having a yelling match with his brother wouldn't solve anything, "Let's talk outside, Al."

Francis sat back down once the two brothers had disappeared into the hall. He didn't know what Matthew would tell his brother, but he was still braced for the loud American to rush in and start strangling him. Not that Francis would be that surprised.

He had seen how messy the boy's hair and clothes were and he highly doubt it was because Arthur attacked him as well. No, Francis saw the gleam in Alfred's eyes whenever he spoke of Arthur, the boy loved him. And judging how upset Arthur had been at the thought of Alfred betraying him, Francis guessed that Brit had fallen in love with him as well.

But as usual these days his mind quickly went back to Matthew, they had finally slept together. No, that wasn't the right word…made love. Yes, they had made love. That explained it better because last night wasn't a triumphant victory; it was him and Matthew and how much he wanted Matthew to know how much he cared.

Before the Canadian Francis would've left by now, bragged to his friends, then left. But not this time…this time when he awoke with his arms around Matthew, he had wanted to hold him, and then he had wanted to surprise the boy with his favorite meal.

Francis put his chin on his hand, contemplating how Gilbert and Antonio would react to this, when the door opened again.

He turned to see Matthew, the boy blinked rapidly as if something was in his eyes, before he smiled at Matthew, "Hey, sorry. Alfred won't bother you anymore."

Francis smiled and held his hand out to Matthew, "Thank you. Come here and sit with me."

Matthew didn't hesitate to take his hand.


	10. Chapter 10

Ch. 10:

For the next few weeks the two enjoyed each other's company, they'd take turns cooking breakfast, they'd go on walks and watch movies, they'd talk about the things they loved, they spend time with Gilbert and Antonio usually during lunch, then they'd spend the night together. Francis could never get enough of Matthew, he always needed to touch him, to hold his hands, to kiss him, the Canadian once joked that Francis had become addicted to him. Francis had replied he was right, and for some reason it made Matthew go quiet.

Gilbert told him that exact reason the next day.

"July's almost over," he had told his friend, "Remember? Matthew's leaving at the end of month. And so are we."

Those words had stabbed Francis but he pretended not to notice the time dwindle by, pretended not to notice the sad sigh Matthew released when he thought Francis wasn't looking. But no matter what they did time kept on going, until they had only one day left and there was no way to ignore it.

"We need to celebrate," Francis decided one night, lying over Matthew as they caught their breath.

"Celebrate what," the boy breathed, holding Francis tighter than usual.

"Believe it or not Mathieu but mine meeting you is something to celebrate," Francis replied, burying his face in Matthew's shoulder, "And I know just what to do."

Despite his leaving hanging over him like a dark cloud Matthew couldn't help the bubble of laughter when he saw Francis's 'surprise'.

The old ice skating rink where they spent their first day, it was fitting, if a little tragically ironic.

"Are you sure," Matthew asked as they each pulled on a pair of skates.

"Of course, darling," Francis replied, sounding determined but anxious. "I will not have frozen water make a mockery of me. Besides-" he smiled warmly at Matthew, "This is for you."

Matthew willed the tightness in his throat to go away, he would not ruin his last day with Francis, he would not ruin the last day with the best thing that had ever happened to him.

Stepping out onto the ice, Matthew, as usual, felt right at home. But Francis was holding onto his arm with an iron grip.

"I'll teach you properly this time," Matthew assured, taking both of Francis's hands in his, "Remember falling is part of the learning."

"I'm sure," Francis snorted, "But I think I've fallen enough here."

Matthew chuckled and started to run Francis through the steps, all the while keeping a strong grip on his hands.

"Be sure to shift your weight," Matthew ordered as he noticed Francis wobbling less and less.

"Am I improving," Francis swallowed, looking adorably unsure of himself.

Matthew smiled, "You're doing great."

"You're not just saying that to make me feel better are you," Francis asked.

Matthew laughed softly, "I wouldn't lie to you, Francis."

"W-what are you doing," Francis demanded a few minutes later when Matthew started to slowly slide his hands out of Francis's grip.

"I think you're ready," Matthew said.

"No, no, Mathieu," Francis begged, sounding panicked. "Don't let me go."

Those words squeezed Matthew's chest and he took a shuddering breath before giving Francis an assuring smile, "I have to."

I have to.

He released Francis who shut his eyes tight, waiting for impact, only…it didn't come. Matthew laughed at Francis's shocked look as he didn't slip.

"I did it," he murmured, cautiously sliding across the ice, "I did it!"

Matthew let out a happy whoop as he watched the Frenchman slide across the ice, but despite his happiness for Francis's accomplishment he couldn't help but feel a little hurt that he no longer needed Matthew. Like learning how to skate was the only thing that kept them together…

Suddenly Francis crashed into him, wrapping his arms around Matthew's waist and laughing as they spun around.

"W-what are you doing," Matthew asked, trying to recover from the surprise attack.

"Just because I can make it without you Mathieu doesn't mean I want to," Francis replied, then smiled warmly, "I'd rather fall with you then skate alone."

Why must Francis say something as poetic, and romantic, and sweet as that? Did he want Matthew to burst into tears in front of this entire crowd? He buried his head in Francis's shoulder, refusing to let go when Francis tried to escape his grip.

"Mathieu," he breathed, confused.

"S-sorry," Matthew tried to speak past the lump in his throat, "Just…just let me stand like this for a while."

Francis's arms wrapped around his shoulders, "Of course, darling."

They didn't leave until the rink closed. Matthew held Francis's hand tightly, so scared of letting go.

Francis stopped suddenly, "You're brother is probably wondering where you are."

"M-maybe," Matthew replied, knowing his brother was also spending his last night with Arthur.

"You should go and check on him," Francis replied quietly.

Matthew looked at Francis, his throat tight and feeling rejected after hearing those words, "Come with me."

Francis opened his mouth to reply, but no words came out, he closed his mouth; then sighed, "Mathieu…"

"Please," Matthew begged, holding Francis's hands, this moment felt so final and he realized that he wasn't just asking Francis to return to the hotel with him, "Come with me."

"…I can't," he replied sadly after what felt like an eternity of woeful silence, "I need to return to my friends…we'll be leaving soon too."

Matthew stared desperately at Francis for a moment, until he felt the Frenchman try to subtly slip his hands out of Matthew's grip, Matthew dropped his hands.

"I'm sorry," Francis breathed.

Matthew nodded his eyes on the ground and his chest heavy, "I am too."

He turned and left.


	11. Chapter 11

Ch. 11:

Matthew knew the moment Arthur came to the airport to wish them farewell that Francis would not be doing the same.

Francis stood outside the airport, staying as still as stone as he felt the tears blur his vision. The morning with his friends replayed through his mind:

"Aren't you going to get packed," Gilbert asked, stuffing his latest souvenirs into his duffle bag.

Francis didn't reply, he was sitting on the couch, head in his hands, hating himself.

"Francis," Antonio spoke the word quietly, anxiously, like Francis would break if he talked too loudly. At the moment Francis thought that was exactly what he would do.

"Francis," Gilbert now walked over to him, bending down to be at eye level with his friend, his voice was gentler than Francis had ever heard, "Talk to me."

"I was scared," Francis replied, "I still am…"

Gilbert tilted his head, confused, "Scared?"

"Last night with Mathieu…he wanted me to come with him, back to the hotel…and I couldn't even do that."

"Why not," Antonio asked, coming to stand beside them.

Francis lifted his head and looked at his friend, "Because I'm in love with him."

The two stared at him with a mixture of disbelief and horror.

"B-but that's against the rules," Antonio began but stopped when Francis stood up with an aggravated growl and started to pace.

"I know that, Toni. That's what we've been doing for our whole life. Drinking, conquests, everything, and look what's happened to us. What's happened to me!?"

He whirled around to face his friends, "I'm in love but I'm too scared of commitment. I became so used to one night stands and easy lays I can't…I can't even go tell him goodbye, I'm too scared I'll go with him and then…I don't even know." He looked at his friends desperately, "What do you do when you're in a committed relationship; sit in rocking chairs or something?"

Antonio shrugged, clueless, but Gilbert had stood up and was glaring at him.

"Don't give me that look," Francis snapped at the albino.

"Oh? So what look am I supposed to give you," Gilbert demanded. "I told you not to catch emotions! I told you to be careful! Now look, you're falling apart and want to abandon us!"

Gilbert's voice caught at the word 'abandon' and Francis felt his anger drain, he could never be mad at these two idiots.

"Gilbert…" he breathed, "I'd never abandon either of you."

The albino turned away sharply, "Sounds like you would to me, you even want to move back to Paris with that Canadian."

"Even if I did," Francis replied, walking forward, "I wouldn't abandon you. I'll always be your friend you know that."

Antonio spoke up, "He's right, Gil. We'll always be best friends, right until the end."

"We're the bad friend trio," Francis said, holding his arms out.

"And despite that name that means we'll always be friends," Antonio added.

"Even when we're separated, we'll always be together," Francis continued. "That I swear." And he meant it.

Gilbert still refused to look at him, but they both detected the slight shaking of his shoulders.

"You're crying," Antonio brightly accused.

Gilbert turned to snap, "I am not!" But the tears in his eyes were plain to see.

"Oh, Gilbert," Francis cried/laughed as he and Antonio wrapped their friend into a hug.

"Shut up," Gilbert growled, hugging them both close, "Ich liebe dich, you assholes."

"Te amo," Antonio replied happily, cuddling into his friends.

"Je t'aime," Francis breathed.

Gilbert pulled back and fixed Francis with a look, "We're not the ones you should be saying that to."

Francis sighed, the moment of warmth he had shared with his friends vanishing, "I can't, Gilbert."

"When has that word ever stopped you before," Antonio asked, placing his hands on his hips.

"We told you that you couldn't sleep with that really snobby rich guy back in Austria," Gilbert said, "But you did."

"You told us you couldn't cook breakfast with your eyes closed," Antonio added before licking his lips, "And you definitely proved us wrong that day."

"The point is," Gilbert continued, "We know you're capable of doing this or we wouldn't even be talking about it."

Francis looked away, "I'm still scared…"

"Yeah," Antonio agreed quietly, "But doesn't that mean you're on to something important?"

"You're only scared when you're taking a chance," Gilbert added.

"And if you don't take a chance what's the point,' Antonio finished.

Francis gazed warmly at his friends, "You sound so sure. Do you really think he wants to be with me, for an undetermined amount of time?"

"For someone who stares at him all day you never noticed how he stares back," Gilbert snorted with an eye roll, "Trust me, you're both on the same page."

"And 'forever' isn't an undetermined amount of time," Antonio added cheekily with a wink.

Gilbert gave his friend a pitiful look, "How are you not a virgin?"

Francis slipped out of the room while his friends argued. He was still scared, terrified, but they were right. He loved Matthew and it wouldn't be fair to either of them if he didn't say it. He needed to give them a chance; he needed to move on to the next adventure, even if it was the most frightening one of all.

But he was too late…

Francis stared at his wrist watch; Matthew's plane had already left. He was such a damn idiot! While he had been sitting there moping Matthew had been standing here, wondering when Francis would come say goodbye…Whether he'd come say goodbye at all.

Francis placed a hand over his mouth and tried to breathe through the lump in his throat, this hurt. This really hurt! At the thought of Matthew never coming back his chest ached and his legs started to wobble and despite being outside he wasn't getting enough air.

Arthur walking out of the airport didn't make things any better. For a second he saw the grief on the Brit's face before their eyes locked and the sadness switched to fury. Arthur marched over and Francis knew exactly what he was mad about. He had been there to say goodbye to Matthew… But frankly Francis wasn't in the mood for Arthur's mouth.

"You have some nerve-" he began but was cut short quickly.

"DON'T START," Francis snapped, letting his emotions boil over, the yell startled Arthur enough into actually obeying and clamping his mouth shut.

"I know that I'm a bastard, okay," he continued, talking more to himself than the Brit, "I know I'm the worst human being in the world and I just let the best thing that ever happened to me leave, I know that Arthur. So don't rub it in."

While Arthur blinked, stunned, Francis tried to catch his breath. Damn, this was so unfair.

"Fine, I won't," Arthur finally spoke, his voice bitter, "But if Matthew was the best thing that ever happened to you why did you let him leave?"

Francis looked away, feeling that lump get bigger; he had already answered that question. Because he was a bastard…a coward who frankly didn't deserve that beautiful little Canadian but longed for him nonetheless. "I'm not like you Arthur; I'm not someone who commits. It's a serious and terrifying thing."

Arthur smirked with arrogance and Francis knew this was the one person who completely believed that with no doubt. "You're right, you don't commit."

Francis glared back, he understand why Arthur hated him but the Brit didn't have any right to be arrogant, "I wouldn't be all high and mighty if I were you, we're not that much different."

Just as expected Arthur took a step forward and growled, "I am nothing like you."

"Did you not just let Alfred go," Francis demanded, "Was he not that important to you?"

"Shut up," he snapped, "He was a better person than you'll EVER BE!"

"Yet you let him go," Francis smiled with self-resentment, "You really are not that much different than me." He was surprised how true those words actually were. But not wanting to listen to Arthur anymore he turned and left.

He returned to his friends and told them the bad news.

"Don't panic," Antonio yelled though neither he nor Gilbert was panicking. "We'll figure this out!"

"How," Francis asked quietly, falling down onto the couch, he didn't even want to talk.

"We'll just get you a ticket to America," Gilbert said, sitting down on Francis's legs, the Frenchman didn't even care. "Although we did spend this month's allowance already since we didn't leave like planned.

"And tickets to the States is expensive," Antonio added, "We always just get a ticket to like the next door nation, you know?"

"I know," Francis mumbled.

"Oh, he sounds so sad, Gilbert do something," Antonio begged, coming to pat Francis's head comfortingly. Francis wanted to smack him but was honestly glad he had his friends there for their support, even if it meant pretending he was a chair and/or dog.

"What about Arthur," Gilbert finally asked after a few minutes of thoughtful silence.

Francis lifted his head to look at his friend, "What about him?"

"Francis isn't going to have sex with him now that he's in love with Matthew," Antonio said with uncharacteristic frustration, "Gosh Gilbert! Do you know nothing of amar!?"

"What I'm trying to get at," Gilbert continued like Antonio hadn't spoken, "Wasn't his dad like a politician or something?"

Francis nodded; he remembered having to feign interest while Arthur had talked nonstop about it back when they had dated, "So?"

"So, aren't politicians rich?"

"…Let me get this straight," Francis sat up and pulled his legs out from under his friend, "You want me…to go to Arthur a.k.a my ex…to ask if he will buy me an expense airplane ticket…to save my relationship?"

"Well, anything sounds stupid when you say it like that," Gilbert shrugged, care-free.

"Out loud you mean," Francis grumbled. He pinched the bridge of his nose, "He's not going to help me."

"Maybe if you let him know how in love you are he'll have a change of heart," Antonio said optimistically.

"Maybe you can get on your hands and knees and beg," Gilbert offered.

Francis glared at his friend, "Excuse me?"

"Hey, when you're in love you'll do anything right?"

There was a long tense silence before Francis finally sighed in defeat. He couldn't believe he was about to do this.


	12. Chapter 12

Ch. 12:

Francis knocked on the Kirkland house door, making sure the ground below him wasn't too dirty when he got on his hands and knees. He could not believe he was about to do this.

The door opened and Francis realized it was too much to ask for that Arthur or perhaps a butler would answer the door.

Allistor stood in front of Francis, still tall, still ginger, and still looking like he'd snap Francis like a twig.

The man's eyes widened in surprise before he pulled out the cigarette in his mouth and smiled, "Hello, Francis. It's been too long."

Francis fought back a shudder, that smile was too friendly, he was up to something. "Yes, bonjour Allistor, it really has been long…I need to speak to your brother."

"Which one," Allistor chuckled quietly, that friendly smile still in place, "I have many."

"T-the one I dated…Arthur."

"Oh~ you mean the one you had on your puppet strings and led around like your personal play thing, the one you shagged for a year and had him get emotionally attached before you tossed him back out into the rainy London streets and left his heart in tatters. Well, I'm afraid you can't see him; actually I'm afraid you won't be able to see anything once I burn your eyes out. Then I think I'll slice you open and turn your innards into haggis for Nessie. She loves the taste of back-stabbing French bastards."

All this was said cheerfully and with a smile that could rival the sun in brightness.

"Fair enough," Francis replied, taking a step back, "But I thought Alfred fixed your brother's heart."

"He did, then left again. Now my brother's a little upset so I don't think you of all people would be a welcome sight to him."

"Be that as it may," Francis continued, "I really need to speak with him, it's important."

Allistor opened his mouth, no doubt ready with another friendly threat, when a new voice spoke up: "Who is it, Allistor?"

Francis actually found himself sagging in relief upon hearing Arthur's voice.

"Take a wild guess," Allistor replied, stepping back so his brother could see their visitor.

Arthur's eyes widened in shock then narrowed, "What do you want?"

"I need to talk with you," Francis said, letting a bit of his desperation slip into his voice, "Please."

Arthur looked even more surprised but nodded resentfully and walked to the door "Leave us, Allistor."

That looked to be the last thing his older brother wanted but with one look from Arthur, Allistor shrugged, smiled cheerfully at Francis who saw the evil in the action, and left.

"Make this quick," Arthur ordered, crossing his arms and leaning against the doorframe, "I'm busy."

"I need your help," Francis went right to the point, "Specifically I need your help financially."

He quickly grabbed the door before Arthur could shut it in his face, "Wait please! Hear me out! I need to get to America!"

"America?" Arthur opened the door and looked Francis up and down, his expression unreadable. "Why do you need to go there?"

"Because Matthew's there," Francis took a deep breath, "Arthur, this is a little late but…I'm sorry. I'm sorry for what I did to you, for playing you like that I…I was a bastard, still am I guess. But I'm a bastard in love."

"With Matthew," Arthur asked disbelievingly.

"Yes," Francis tried to put every bit of conviction he possessed into that word, "I love him and I'm not going to let him get away. I need to go to him. I need to at least tell him how I feel."

"So, you need my money for a plane ticket?"

"Just a little," Francis assured, "At the end of month I'll be getting some money and then I just need a bit of yours… Please Arthur."

Francis dropped to his knees and Arthur stared at him with surprise.

"Please, I love Matthew like you love Alfred."

That was exactly the right words to say, Arthur's eyes softened and he sighed, "At the end of the month."

Francis's heart nearly burst out of his chest at those words, "T-Thank you!"

"I'm not doing this for you," Arthur snapped, back to his usual prickly self, "I planned on going there as well, don't think you're the only who wouldn't chase after the one he loves. So since that's already my plan you might as well come along."

Francis would've hugged him if Arthur wouldn't claw him for doing so, so instead he smiled, "Merci, Arthur."

Matthew stared down at the waves lapping on the shore; he stood next to the lake, at their home. Alfred's words rang in his ear: Just don't jump in.

He scowled at his reflection in the water, had he really turned that pitiful. Ever since he had got on the plane on the way back to America he had tried to act as brightly as possible. Like he was fine, like he wasn't dying inside every time he woke up and Francis was lying there beside him. It had been a month now and the pain hadn't eased. Matthew knew he needed to erase the summer from his mind, Francis had probably found someone new by now. The thought nearly made Matthew sick.

Hearing running footsteps behind him Matthew let out an aggravated sigh, he may have been faking his cheerfulness but Alfred was the one acting all depressed, yet he thought his brother would jump in the lake…

He whirled around with a scowl, "Al, I'm fine you don't-" Every word and thought evaporated in his head when he saw who it was. It wasn't Alfred. It was someone he thought he'd never see again.

Francis.

There he was, standing right there, slightly panting from his run, his long hair a mess , his chest peeking from his slightly unbuttoned shirt. He was still beautiful; his eyes still gleamed so perfectly that Matthew couldn't breathe.

Francis took a small, cautious step forward, like Matthew would get frightened and run if he moved too fast.

A small, shy smile spread over the Frenchman's soft lips and from behind his back he pulled out…a rose, and offered it to Matthew.

He for one could not process this, he stared at Francis, then the rose, then back again, "I…I…eh?"

"Mathieu," he took the rest of the steps needed to stand right before the Canadian, "I…I couldn't say it before…but…I'm sure now. I love you, Mathieu."

Matthew's heart stopped…he had said it…there was no misunderstanding that he had said it clear as day…he loves me…he loves me…

He quickly shook his head, trying to collect his thoughts, with Francis's confession and the events of last month he felt too conflicted, "If-if that's true then why…why did you…" He couldn't finish the words. Why did you break my heart?

"I was afraid, Mathieu," Francis grabbed Matthew's hand in both of his, looking at him a desperate sorrow in his blue eyes. "I…I've never really been in a committed relationship and to be honest, I never thought I would, I never wanted to. But…" he brought a hand up to brush a lock of hair behind Matthew's ear and the simple gesture made the boy's heart stutter.

"But then I met you…And it was…strange, it was something I'd never experienced before. And I didn't realize until you were gone just how hard it would be, just how much it would hurt, to live without you."

Matthew swallowed, trying to hold back the tears that had threatened as soon as he saw Francis, "It hurt. It hurt like hell when you didn't come to say goodbye."

He loves me…

"I'm sorry…I'm so sorry Mathieu…I didn't think I could do it…I…I was falling for you. And I didn't think I could do that…but then I found out…the thing I couldn't do was leave your side."

He loves me…

Matthew tightened his grip on Francis's hand, still warm, still soft, "…I don't know what to say…"

"Will you say you love me, Mathieu? Will you say is right now…to me? And meant it…? Can you forgive me, Mathieu…?" Francis's voice was as tight as Matthew's heart and he realized he wasn't the only one who felt this way.

He loves me…

"That depends…are you sure you want to stay? Because once you do I will never let you go again."

"Mathieu, I pray to Heaven you never do…" he looked on the verge of tears as he said it, his smile small and scared but radiant nonetheless…

…I love him.

"Then yes. I forgave you the moment I saw you standing right here before me…And I've loved you since the moment I first laid eyes on you."

He quickly brought the rose to his face, breathing in its scent with his eyes closed, he felt too embarrassed to look at Francis.

But then Francis's hand was on his, moving the rose down and then Matthew felt warm lips caress his own. Matthew didn't hesitate to wrap his arms around Francis's neck and kiss back, a burst of joy warming him as he felt Francis wrap his arms around his waist and pull him closer.

But remembering something Matthew pulled back from Francis's lips, "Before I forget to ask. How on earth did you get here?"

Francis smiled, "Arthur and I made the trip…"

Matthew smiled both in amusement and happiness that back at the house his brother was just as happy as he was. "What a plane ride that must've been."

He shrugged, "I've had worse…I've had better."

They both chuckled and Matthew felt fresh tears of joy prick his eyes, something told him he would be shedding a lot of those soon. He smiled warmly down at the rose, recalling a similar flower that had introduced him to the man that changed his life, "You know…I still think my brother wouldn't approve of you giving me flowers."

"Well…" Francis wrapped his fingers into Matthew's hair, pulling them so close their noses touched, his eyes smiled, "We'll just keep it under the rose."

Matthew smiled brightly, thinking he'd burst from his happiness, his violet eyes sparkled as he gazed at the love of his life, he had to be the happiest person in the world. Who would ever have thought quiet invisible Matthew Williams would meet and fall in love with the most handsome of Frenchmen? And who would've thought that Frenchman would've loved him in return?

But it was true, staring into Francis's sparkling eyes and grinning face Matthew knew he was truly and completely loved and he could never ask for anything else, because this is what he always wanted.

Lips still smiling, eyes still sparkling, and still the happiest person in the world, he wrapped his arms around his true love and dipped in for another kiss.

Fin


End file.
